0 
0 
0 


0 


^> 


l\ 


nk 


THE   PICCOLOMINI 

THE  DEATH   OF  WALLENSTEIN 

WALLENSTEIN'S   CAMP 


%\)t  jpucolomini 

C^e  J^cat^  of  ^alleu^tetn 
Wallm&ttixi'8  Camp 


BY 


Friedrich    Schiller 


Translated  by 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 


Edited  by  Nathan  Haskell  Dole 

Boston   J>    Francis    A .    Niccolls 
&    Company    J>    Publishers 


litutton  Dc  ^ranti  ILuxc 

This  Edition  is  Limited  to  Two  Hundred  and  Fifty 
Copies,  of  which  this  is  copy 

STo. 3.4 


Copyright,  igo2 
By  Francis  A.  Xiccolls  &  Co. 


{Colonial  $rrss 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co 

Boston.  Mass.    U   S.  A. 


-  --  * . 


\SOZ\\%Q\ 


Preface 

" Wallenstein's  Camp"  possesses  a  sort  of  broad 
humour,  and  is  not  deficient  in  character ;  but  to  have 
translated  it  into  prose,  or  into  any  other  metre  than 
that  of  the  original,  would  have  given  a  false  idea  both 
of  its  style  and  purport ;  to  have  translated  it  into  the 
same  metre  would  have  been  incompatible  with  a  faith- 
ful adherence  to  the  sense  of  the  German  from  the 
comparative  poverty  of  our  language  in  rhymes;  and 
it  would  have  been  unadvisable,  from  the  incongruity 
of  those  lax  verses  with  the  present  taste  of  the  Eng- 
lish public.  Schiller's  intention  seems  to  have  been 
merely  to  have  prepared  his  reader  for  the  tragedies 
by  a  lively  picture  of  laxity  of  discipline  and  the 
mutinous  dispositions  of  Wallenstein's  soldiery.  It  is 
not  necessary  as  a  preliminary  explanation. 

The  admirers  of  Schiller,  who  have  abstracted  their 
idea  of  that  author  from  the  "  Bobbers,"  and  the 
"  Cabal  and  Love,"  plays  in  which  the  main  interest 
is  produced  by  the  excitement  of  curiosity,  and  in 
which  the  curiosity  is  excited  by  terrible  and  extraor- 
dinary incident,  will  not  have  perused  without  some 
portion  of  disappointment  the  dramas  which  it  has 
been  my  employment  to  translate.  They  should,  how- 
ever, reflect  that  these  are  historical  dramas  taken 
from  a  popular  German  history ;  that  we  must,  there- 
fore, judge  of  them  in  some  measure  with  the  feelings 
of  Germans ;  or,  by  analogy,  with  the  interest  excited 
in  us  by  similar  dramas  in  our  own  language.     Few, 


vn 


viii  PREFACE 

I  trust,  would  be  rash  or  ignorant  enough  to  compare 
Schiller  with  Shakespeare;  yet,  merely  as  illustration, 
1  would  say  that  we  should  proceed  to  the  perusal  of 
•  Wallenstein,"  not  from  "  Lear "  or  "  Othello,"  but 
from  "Richard  II.,"  or  the  three  parts  of  "Henry 
VI."  We  scarcely  expect  rapidity  in  an  historical 
drama  ;  and  many  prolix  speeches  are  pardoned  from 
characters  whose  names  and  actions  have  formed  the 
most  amusing  tales  of  our  early  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  exist  in  these  plays  more  individual  beau- 
ties, more  passages  whose  excellence  will  bear  reflec- 
tion than  in  the  former  productions  of  Schiller.  The 
description  of  the  Astrological  Tower,  and  the  reflec- 
tions of  the  Young  Lover,  which  follow  it,  form  in  the 
original  a  fine  poem  ;  and  my  translation  must  have 
been  wrretched  indeed  if  it  can  have  wholly  over- 
clouded the  beauties  of  the  scene  in  the  first  act  of 
the  first  play  between  Questenberg,  Max.,  and  Octavio 
Piccolomini.  If  we  except  the  scene  of  the  setting 
sun  in  the  "  Robbers,"  I  know  of  no  part  in  Schiller's 
plays  which  equals  the  first  scene  of  the  fifth  act  of 
the  concluding  plays.1  It  wrould  be  unbecoming  in 
me  to  be  more  diffuse  on  this  subject.  A  translator 
stands  connected  with  the  original  author  by  a  certain 
law  of  subordination  which  makes  it  more  decorous  to 
point  out  excellences  than  defects ;  indeed,  he  is  not 
likely  to  be  a  fair  judge  of  either.  The  pleasure  or 
disgust  from  his  own  labour  will  mingle  with  the 
feelings  that  arise  from  an  afterview  of  the  original. 
Even  in  the  first  perusal  of  a  work  in  any  foreign 
language  which  we  understand,  we  are  apt  to  attribute 
to  it  more  excellence  than  it  really  possesses  from  our 
own  pleasurable  sense  of  difficulty  overcome  without 
effort.  Translation  of  poetry  into  poetry  is  difficult, 
because  the  translator  must  give  a  brilliancy  to  his 
language  without  that  warmth  of  original  conception 
1  In  this  edition,  scene  iii.,  act.  v. 


PREFACE  ix 

from  which  such  brilliancy  would  follow  of  its  own 
accord.  But  the  translator  of  a  living  author  is  en- 
cumbered with  additional  inconveniences.  If  he  render 
his  original  faithfully  as  to  the  sense  of  each  passage, 
he  must  necessarily  destroy  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  spirit ;  if  he  endeavour  to  give  a  work  executed 
according  to  laws  of  compensation  he  subjects  himself 
to  imputations  of  vanity  or  misrepresentation.  I  have 
thought  it  my  duty  to  remain  bound  by  the  sense  of 
my  original  with  as  few  exceptions  as  the  nature 
of  the  languages  rendered  possible. 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge. 


List  of  Illustrations 


The    Generals    of    Wallenstein 

Banquet  (See  page  100) 
Banquet  of  Wallenstein's  Generals 
"i  dedicate  your  souls  to  vengeance 
Thekla  and  the  Swedish  Courier 
"i  think  to  make  a  long  sleep  of  it ' 


PAGE 
BEFORE       THE 

Frontispiece 
.  128 
.  283 
.  315 
.     356 


Piccolomini. 


The   Piccolomini 


DEAMATTS   PERSONS 

Wallenstein,  Duke  of  Friedland,  Generalissimo  of  the 
Imperial  Forces  in  the  Thirty  Years'   War. 

Octavio  Piccolomini,  Lieutenant-General . 

Max.  Piccolomini,  his  Son,  Colonel  of  a  Regiment  of  Cuiras- 
siers. 

Count  Terzky,  the  Commander  of  several  Regiments,  and 
Brother-in-law  of  Wallenstein. 

Illo,  Field-Marshal,  Wallenstein's  Confidant. 

Isolani,  General  of  the  Croats. 

Butler,  an  Irishman,  Commander  of  a  Regiment  of  Dragoons. 

TlEFENBACH, 

Don  Maradas,  I  Generals  under  Wallenstein. 

GOETZ, 

KOLATTO, 

Neumann,  Captain  of  Cavalry,  Aid-de-Camp  to  Terzky. 

Von  Questenberg,  the  War  Commissioner,  Imperial  Envoy. 

Baptista  Seni,  an  Astrologer. 

Duchess  of  Friedland,  Wife  of  Wallenstein. 

Thekla,  her  Daughter,  Princess  of  Friedland. 

The  Countess  Terzky,  Sister  of  the  Duchess. 

A  Cornet. 

Colonels  and  Generals  (several). 

Pages  and  Attendants  belonging  to  Wallenstein. 

Attendants  and  Hoboists  belonging  to  Terzky. 

Master  of  the  Cellar  to  Count  Terzky. 

Valet  de  Chambre  of  Count  Piccolomini. 


The   Piccolomini 


ACT   I. 

Scene  I. 


An  old  Gothic  Chamber  in  the  Council-house  at  Pilsen, 
decorated  with  Colours  and  other  War  Insignia. 

Illo,  with  Butlek  and  Isolani. 

illo. 

Ye  have  come  too  late  —  but  ye  are  come  !     The  dis- 
tance, 
Count  Isolani,  excuses  your  delay. 

ISOLANI. 

Add  this  too,  that  we  come  not  empty-handed. 

At  Donauwerth *  it  was  reported  to  us, 

A  Swedish  caravan  was  on  its  way, 

Transporting  a  rich  cargo  of  provision, 

Almost  six  hundred  wagons.     This  my  Croats 

Plunged  down  upon  and  seized,  this  weighty  prize  !  — 

We  bring  it  hither  — 

1 A  town  about  twelve  German  miles  northeast  of  Ulm. 

3 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


Just  in  time  to  banquet 
The  illustrious  company  assembled  here. 

BUTLEK. 

'Tis  all  alive  !  a  stirring  scene  here ! 

ISOLANI. 

Ay! 

The  very  churches  are  full  of  soldiers. 

[Casts  his  eye  round. 
And  in  the  council-house,  too,  I  observe, 
You're  settled  quite  at  home  !     Well,  well !  we  soldiers 
Must  shift  and  suit  us  in  what  way  we  can. 

ILLO. 

We  have  the  colonels  here  of  thirty  regiments. 
You'll  find  Count  Terzky  here,  and  Tiefenbach, 
Kolatto,  Goetz,  Maradas,  Hinnersam, 
The  Piccolomini,  both  son  and  father  — 
You'll  meet  with  many  an  unexpected  greeting 
From  many  an  old  friend  and  acquaintance.     Only 
Gallas  is  wanting  still,  and  Altringer. 

BUTLEK. 

Expect  not  Gallas. 

ILLO  {hesitating). 
How  so  ?     Do  you  know  — 

isolani  (interrupting  him). 

Max.  Piccolomini  here  ?     0  bring  me  to  him. 
I  see  him  yet  ('tis  now  ten  years  ago, 
We  were  engaged  with  Mansfeldt  hard  by  Dessau), 
I  see  the  youth,  in  my  mind's  eye  I  see  him, 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Leap  his  black  war-horse  from  the  bridge  adown, 
And  t'ward  his  father,  then  in  extreme  peril, 
Beat  up  against  the  strong  tide  of  the  Elbe. 
The  down  was  scarce  upon  his  chin !     I  hear 
He  has  made  good  the  promise  of  his  youth, 
And  the  full  hero  now  is  finished  in  him. 

ILLO. 

You'll  see  him  yet  ere  evening.     He  conducts 
The  Duchess  Friedland  hither,  and  the  princess 
From  Carnthen.2     We  expect  them  here  at  noon 


1 


BUTLER. 

Both  wife  and  daughter  does  the  duke  call  hither  ? 
He  crowds  in  visitants  from  all  sides. 

ISOLANI. 

Hm! 

So  much  the  better !  I  had  framed  my  mind 
To  hear  of  naught  but  warlike  circumstance, 
Of  marches  and  attacks,  and  batteries ; 
And  lo !  the  duke  provides,  and  something  too 
Of  gentler  sort  and  lovely,  should  be  present 
To  feast  our  eyes. 

ILLO  {who  has  been  standing  in  the  attitude  of  medita- 
tion, to  butler,  whom  he  leads  a  little  on  one  side). 

And  how  came  you  to  know 

That  the  Count  Gallas  joins  us  not  ? 

BUTLER. 

Because 
He  importuned  me  to  remain  behind. 

1The  dukes  in  Germany  being  always  reigning  powers,  their 
sons  and  daughters  are  entitled  princes  and  princesses. 
2  Carinthia. 


6  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

ILLO  (with  warm  t/i). 

And  you  ?     You  hold  out  firmly  ! 

[Grasjnng  his  hand  with  affection. 
Noble  Butler  ! 

BUTLER. 

After  the  obligation  which  the  duke 
Had  laid  so  newly  on  me  — 

ILLO. 

I  had  forgotten 
A  pleasant  duty  —  major-general, 
I  wish  you  joy  ! 

ISOLANI. 

What,  you  mean,  of  this  regiment  ? 
I  hear,  too,  that  to  make  the  gift  still  sweeter, 
The  duke  has  given  him  the  very  same 
In  which  he  first  saw  service,  and  since  then 
Worked  himself  step  by  step,  through  each  preferment, 
From  the  ranks  upwards.     And  verily,  it  gives 
A  precedent  of  hope,  a  spur  of  action 
To  the  whole  corps,  if  once  in  their  remembrance 
An  old  deserving  soldier  makes  his  way. 

BUTLER. 

I  am  perplexed  and  doubtful  whether  or  no 

I  dare  accept  this  your  congratulation. 

The  emperor  has  not  yet  confirmed  the  appointment. 

ISOLANI. 

Seize  it,  friend,  seize  it !     The  hand  which  in  that  post 
Placed  you  is  strong  enough  to  keep  you  there, 
Spite  of  the  emperor  and  his  ministers ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  5 

ILLO. 

Ay,  if  we  would  but  so  consider  it !  — 

If  we  would  all  of  us  consider  it  so ! 

The  emperor  gives  us  nothing ;  from  the  duke 

Comes  all  —  whate'er  we  hope,  whate'er  we  have. 

ISOLANI  (to  ILLO). 

My  noble  brother !  did  I  tell  you  how 

The  duke  will  satisfy  my  creditors  ? 

Will  be  himself  my  bankers  for  the  future, 

Make  me  once  more  a  creditable  man  ! 

And  this  is  now  the  third  time,  think  of  that ! 

This  kingly-minded  man  has  rescued  me 

From  absolute  ruin  and  restored  my  honour. 

ILLO. 

Oh  that  his  power  but  kept  pace  with  his  wishes  ! 
Why,  friend  !  he'd  give  the  whole  world  to  his  soldiers. 
But  at  Vienna,  brother  !  —  here's  the  grievance,  — 
What  politic  schemes  do  they  not  lay  to  shorten 
His  arm,  and  where  they  can  to  clip  his  pinions. 
Then  these  new  dainty  requisitions !  these 
Which  this  same  Questenberg  brings  hither ! 

BUTLER. 

Ay! 
Those  requisitions  of  the  emperor  — 
I  too  have  heard  about  them  ;  but  I  hope 
The  duke  will  not  draw  back  a  single  inch ! 


ILLO. 

Not  from  his  right  most  surely,  unless  first 
From  office  ! 


8  THE    P1CCOLOMINI 

BUTLER  {shocked  and  confused). 
Know  you  aught  then  ?     You  alarm  me. 

isolani  (at  the  same  time  with  butler,  and  in  a 
hurrying  voice). 

We  should  be  ruined,  every  one  of  us ! 

ILLO. 

Yonder  I  see  our  worthy  friend l  approaching 
With  the  Lieutenant-General  Piccolomini. 

butler  (shaking  his  head  significantly). 
I  fear  we  shall  not  go  hence  as  we  came. 


Scene  II. 
Enter  Octavio  Piccolomini  and  Questenberg. 

octavio  (still  in  the  distance). 

Ay  !  ah  !  more  still !     Still  more  new  visitors  ! 
Acknowledge,  friend  !  that  never  was  a  camp, 
Which  held  at  once  so  many  heads  of  heroes. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Let  none  approach  a  camp  of  Friedland's  troops 
Who  dares  to  think  unworthily  of  war ; 
E'en  I  myself  had  nigh  forgot  its  evils 
When  I  surveyed  that  lofty  soul  of  order, 
By  which,  while  it  destroys  the  world  —  itself 
Maintains  the  greatness  which  itself  created. 

1  Spoken  with  a  sneer. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  9 

OCTAVIO  {approaching  nearer). 
Welcome,  Count  Isolani ! 

ISOLANI. 

My  noble  brother ! 
Even  now  am  I  arrived ;  it  has  been  else  my  duty  — 

OCTAVIO. 

And  Colonel  Butler  —  trust  me,  I  rejoice 
Thus  to  renew  acquaintance  with  a  man 
Whose  worth  and  services  I  know  and  honour. 
See,  see,  my  friend  ! 

There  might  we  place  at  once  before  our  eyes 
The  sum  of  war's  whole  trade  and  mystery  — 

[To  Questenberg,  presenting  Butler  and 
Isolani  at  the  same  time  to  him. 
These  two  the  total  sum  —  strength  and  despatch. 

QUESTENBEKG  (to   OCTAVIO). 

And  lo  !  betwixt  them  both,  experienced  prudence ! 
OCTAVIO  (presenting  questenberg  to  butler  and 

ISOLANI). 

The  Chamberlain  and  War-Commissioner  Questenberg. 

The  bearer  of  the  emperor's  behests, 

The  long-tried  friend  and  patron  of  all  soldiers, 

We  honour  in  this  noble  visitor.  [Universal  silence. 

illo  (moving  toward  questenberg). 

'Tis  not  the  first  time,  noble  minister, 
You  have  shown  our  camp  this  honour. 

questenberg. 

Once  before 
I  stood  beside  these  colours. 


io  THE    P1CCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


Perchance  too  you  remember  where  that  was; 

It  was  at  Znaim  x  in  Moravia,  where 

Vuu  did  present  yourself  upon  the  part 

Of  the  emperor  to  supplicate  our  duke 

That  he  would  straight  assume  the  chief  command 


*o* 


QUESTENBERG. 

To  supplicate  ?     Nay,  bold  general ! 

So  far  extended  neither  my  commission 

(At  least  to  my  own  knowledge)  nor  my  zeal. 

ILLO. 

Well,  well,  then  —  to  compel  him,  if  you  choose. 
I  can  remember  me  right  well,  Count  Tilly 
Had  suffered  total  rout  upon  the  Lech. 
Bavaria  lay  all  open  to  the  enemy, 
Whom  there  was  nothing  to  delay  from  pressing 
Onwards  into  the  very  heart  of  Austria. 
At  that  time  you  and  Werdenberg  appeared 
Before  our  general,  storming  him  with  prayers, 
And  menacing  the  emperor's  displeasure, 
Unless  he  took  compassion  on  this  wretchedness. 

* 

isolani  (steps  up  to  them). 

Yes,  yes,  'tis  comprehensible  enough, 
Wherefore  with  your  commission  of  to-day, 
You  were  not  all  too  willing  to  remember 
Your  former  one. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Why  not,  Count  Isolani  ? 
No  contradiction  sure  exists  between  them. 
It  was  the  urgent  business  of  that  time 

1 A  town  not  far  from  the  Mine-mountains,  on  the  highroad 
from  Vienna  to  Prague. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  n 

To  snatch  Bavaria  from  her  enemy's  hand ; 
And  my  commission  of  to-day  instructs  me 
To  free  her  from  her  good  friends  and  protectors. 

ILLO. 

A  worthy  office !     After  with  our  blood 

We  have  wrested  this  Bohemia  from  the  Saxon, 

To  be  swept  out  of  it  is  all  our  thanks, 

The  sole  reward  of  all  our  hard-won  victories. 


QUESTENBERG. 

Unless  that  wretched  land  be  doomed  to  suffer 

Only  a  change  of  evils,  it  must  be 

Freed  from  the  scourge  alike  of  friend  or  foe. 

ILLO. 

What  ?     'Twas  a  favourable  year ;  the  boors 
Can  answer  fresh  demands  already. 

QUESTENBEEG. 

Nay, 
If  you  discourse  of  herds  and  meadow-grounds  — 

ISOLANI. 

The  war  maintains  the  war.     Are  the  boors  ruined 
The  emperor  gains  so  many  more  new  soldiers. 

QUESTENBERG. 

And  is  the  poorer  by  even  so  many  subjects. 

ISOLANI. 

Poh  !  we  are  all  his  subjects. 


12  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

QUESTENBERG. 

Yet  with  a  difference,  general !     The  one  fill 

With  profitable  industry  the  purse, 

The  others  are  well  skilled  to  empty  it. 

The  sword  has  made  the  emperor  poor ;  the  plough 

Must  reinvigorate  his  resources. 

ISOLANI. 

Sure ! 
Times  are  not  yet  so  bad.     Methinks  I  see 

[Examining  with  his  eye  the  dress  and  ornaments 

of  QUESTENBERG. 

Good  store  of  gold  that  still  remains  uncoined. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Thank  Heaven  !  that  means  have  been  found  out  to  hide 
Some  little  from  the  fingers  of  the  Croats. 

ILLO. 

There !     The  Stawata  and  the  Martinitz, 

On  whom  the  emperor  heaps  his  gifts  and  graces, 

To  the  heart-burning  of  all  good  Bohemians  — 

Those  minions  of  court  favour,  those  court  harpies, 

Who  fatten  on  the  wrecks  of  citizens 

Driven   from   their   house   and  home  —  who  reap  no 

harvests 
Save  in  the  general  calamity  — 
Who  now,  with  kingly  pomp,  insult  and  mock 
The  desolation  of  their  country  —  these, 
Let  these,  and  such  as  these,  support  the  war, 
The  fatal  war,  winch  they  alone  enkindled  ! 

BUTLER. 

And  those  state-parasites,  who  have  their  feet 
So  constantly  beneath  the  emperor's  table, 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  13 

Who  cannot  let  a  benefice  fall,  but  they 
Snap  at  it  with  dogs'  hunger  —  they,  forsooth, 
Would  pare  the  soldier's  bread  and  cross  his  reckoning  ! 

ISOLANI. 

My  life  long  will  it  anger  me  to  think, 
How  when  I  went  to  court  seven  years  ago, 
To  see  about  new  horses  for  our  regiment, 
How  from  one  antechamber  to  another 
They  dragged  me  on  and  left  me  by  the  hour 
To  kick  my  heels  among  a  crowd  of  simpering 
Feast-fattened  slaves,  as  if  I  had  come  thither 
A  mendicant  suitor  for  the  crumbs  of  favour 
That  fell  beneath  their  tables.     And,  at  last, 
Whom  should  they  send  me  but  a  Capuchin  ! 
Straight  I  began  to  muster  up  my  sins 
For  absolution  —  but  no  such  luck  for  me ! 
This  was  the  man,  this  Capuchin,  with  whom 
I  was  to  treat  concerning  the  army  horses  ! 
And  I  was  forced  at  last  to  quit  the  field, 
The  business  unaccomplished.     Afterward 
The  duke  procured  me  in  three  days  what  I 
Could  not  obtain  in  thirty  at  Vienna. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Yes,  yes !  your  travelling  bills  soon  found  their  way  to 

us ! 
Too  well  I  know  we  have  still  accounts  to  settle. 

ILLO. 

War  is  violent  trade ;  one  cannot  always 
Finish  one's  work  by  soft  means ;  every  trifle 
Must  not  be  blackened  into  sacrilege. 
If  we  should  wait  till  you,  in  solemn  council, 
With  due  deliberation  had  selected 


14  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

The  smallest  out  of  four  and  twenty  evils, 

I'  faith  we  should  wait  long  — 

"Dash!  and    through    with    it!"     That's    the    better 

watchword. 
Then  after  come  what  may  come.     'Tis'  man's  nature 
To  make  the  best  of  a  bad  thing  once  past. 
A  bitter  and  perplexed  "  what  shall  I  do  ? " 
Is  worse  to  man  than  worst  necessity. 


QUESTENBERG. 

Ay,  doubtless,  it  is  true ;  the  duke  does  spare  us 
The  troublesome  task  of  choosing. 


BUTLEE. 

Yes,  the  duke 
Cares  with  a  father's  feelings  for  his  troops  ; 
But  how  the  emperor  feels  for  us,  we  see. 

QUESTENBERG. 

His  cares  and  feelings  all  ranks  share  alike, 
Nor  will  he  offer  one  up  to  another. 

ISOLANI. 

And  therefore  thrusts  he  us  into  the  deserts 
As  beasts  of  prey,  that  so  he  may  preserve 
His  dear  sheep  fattening  in  his  fields  at  home. 

questenberg  (with  a  sneer). 
Count !  this  comparison  you  make,  not  I. 

ILLO. 

Why,  were  we  all  the  court  supposes  us 
'Twere  dangerous,  sure,  to  give  us  liberty. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  15 

questenberg  (gravely). 

You  have  taken  liberty  —  it  was  not  given  you, 
And  therefore  it  becomes  an  urgent  duty 
To  rein  it  in  with  the  curbs. 

ILLO. 

Expect  to  find  a  restive  steed  in  us. 
t 

QUESTENBERG. 

A  better  rider  may  be  found  to  rule  it. 

ILLO. 

He  only  brooks  the  rider  who  has  tamed  him. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Ay,  tame  him  once,  and  then  a  child  may  lead  him. 

ILLO. 

The  child,  we  know,  is  found  for  him  already. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Be  duty,  sir,  your  study,  not  a  name. 

butler   (who   has  stood   aside  with  piccolomini,  but 
with  visible  interest  in  the  conversation,  adva7ices). 

Sir  president,  the  emperor  has  in  Germany 
A  splendid  host  assembled ;  in  this  kingdom 
Full  twenty  thousand  soldiers  are  cantoned, 
With  sixteen  thousand  in  Silesia ; 
Ten  regiments  are  posted  on  the  Weser, 
The  Rhine,  and  Main  ;  in  Swabia  there  are  six, 
And  in  Bavaria  twelve,  to  face  the  Swedes ; 
Without  including  in  the  account  the  garrisons 
Who  on  the  frontiers  hold  the  fortresses. 


16  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

This  vast  and  mighty  host  is  all  obedient 

To  Friedland's  captains ;  and  its  brave  commanders, 

Bred  in  one  school,  and  nurtured  with  one  milk, 

Are  all  excited  by  one  heart  and  soul ; 

They  are  as  strangers  on  the  soil  they  tread, 

The  service  is  their  only  house  and  home. 

No  zeal  inspires  them  for  their  country's  cause, 

For  thousands  like  myself  were  born  abroad ; 

Nor  care  they  for  the  emperor,  for  one-half 

Deserting  other  service  fled  to  ours, 

Indifferent  what  their  banner,  whether  'twere 

The  Double  Eagle,  Lily,  or  the  Lion. 

Yet  one  sole  man  can  rein  this  fiery  host 

By  equal  rule,  by  equal  love  and  fear ; 

Blending  the  many-nationed  whole  in  one ; 

And  like  the  lightning's  fires  securely  led 

Down  the  conducting  rod,  e'en  thus  his  power 

Rules  all  the  mass,  from  guarded  post  to  post, 

From  where  the  sentry  hears  the  Baltic  roar, 

Or  views  the  fertile  vales  of  the  Adige, 

E'en  to  the  body-guard,  who  holds  his  watch 

Within  the  precincts  of  the  imperial  palace ! 

QUESTENBEKG. 

What's  the  short  meaning  of  this  long  harangue  ? 

BUTLER. 

That  the  respect,  the  love,  the  confidence, 

Which  makes  us  willing  subjects  of  Duke  Friedland, 

Are  not  to  be  transferred  to  the  first  comer 

That  Austria's  court  may  please  to  send  to  us. 

We  have  not  yet  so  readily  forgotten 

How  the  command  came  into  Friedland's  hands. 

Was  it,  forsooth,  the  emperor's  majesty 

That  gave  the  army  ready  to  his  hand, 

And  only  sought  a  leader  for  it  ?     No. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  17 

The  army  then  had  no  existence.     He, 
Friedland,  it  was  who  called  it  into  being, 
And  gave  it  to  his  sovereign  —  but  receiving 
No  army  at  his  hand  ;  nor  did  the  emperor 
Give  Wallenstein  to  us  as  general.     No, 
It  was  from  Wallenstein  we  first  received 
The  emperor  as  our  master  and  our  sovereign 
And  he,  he  only,  binds  us  to  our  banners ! 

OCTAVIO  {interposing  and  addressing  questenberg). 

My  noble  friend, 
This  is  no  more  than  a  remembrancing 
That  you  are  now  in  camp,  and  among  warriors ! 
The  soldier's  bolduess  constitutes  his  freedom. 
Could  he  act  daringly,  unless  he  dared 
Talk  even  so  ?     One  runs  into  the  other. 
The  boldness  of  this  worthy  officer, 

[Pointing  to  Butler. 
Which  now  is  but  mistaken  in  its  mark, 
Preserved,  when  naught  but  boldness  could  preserve  it, 
To  the  emperor,  Ins  capital  city,  Prague, 
In  a  most  formidable  mutiny 

Of  the  whole  garrison.     [Military  music  at  a  distance. 

Hah  !  here  they  come  ! 

ILLO. 

The  sentries  are  saluting  them :  this  signal 
Announces  the  arrival  of  the  duchess. 

OCTAVIO  (to  QUESTENBERG). 

Then  my  son  Max.,  too,  has  returned.     'Twas  he 
Fetched  and  attended  them  from  Carnthen  hither. 

ISOLANI  (to  ILLO). 

Shall  we  not  go  in  company  to  greet  them  ? 


18  THE    PICCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


Well,  let  us  go  —  Ho  !  Colonel  Butler,  come. 

[To  Octavio. 
You'll  not  forget  that  yet  ere  noon  we  meet 
The  noble  envoy  at  the  general's  palace. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Questenberg  and  Octavio. 


Scene  III. 
Questenberg  and  Octavio. 

questenberg  (with  signs  of  aversion  and  astonishment). 

What  have  I  not  been  forced  to  hear,  Octavio ! 
What  sentiments !  what  fierce,  uncurbed  defiance  ! 
And  were  this  spirit  universal  — 

OCTAVIO. 

Hm! 

You  are  now  acquainted  with  three-fourths  of  the  army. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Where  must  we  seek,  then,  for  a  second  host 

To  have  the  custody  of  this  ?     That  Illo 

Thinks  worse,  I  fear  me,  than  he  speaks.     And  then 

This  Butler,  too  —  he  cannot  even  conceal 

The  passionate  workings  of  his  ill  intentions. 

OCTAVIO. 

Quickness  of  temper  —  irritated  pride  ; 
'Twas  nothing  more.     I  cannot  give  up  Butler. 
I  know  a  spell  that  will  soon  dispossess 
The  evil  spirit  in  him. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 


l9 


QUESTENBERG  (walking  up  and  down  in  evident  disquiet). 

Friend,  friend ! 
0  !  this  is  worse,  far  worse,  than  we  had  suffered 
Ourselves  to  dream  of  at  Vienna.     There 
We  saw  it  only  with  a  courtier's  eyes, 
Eyes  dazzled  by  the  splendour  of  the  throne. 
We  had  not  seen  the  war-chief,  the  commander, 
The  man  all-powerful  in  his  camp.     Here,  here, 
'Tis  quite  another  thing. 

Here  is  no  emperor  more  —  the  duke  is  emperor. 
Alas,  my  friend  !  alas,  my  noble  friend ! 
This  walk  which  you  have  ta'en  me  through  the  camp 
Strikes  my  hopes  prostrate. 

OCTAVIO. 

Now  you  see  yourself 
Of  what  a  perilous  kind  the  office  is, 
Which  you  deliver  to  me  from  the  court. 
The  least  suspicion  of  the  general 
Costs  me  my  freedom  and  my  life,  and  would 
But  hasten  his  most  desperate  enterprise. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Where  was  our  reason  sleeping  when  we  trusted 

This  madman  with  the  sword,  and  placed  such  power 

In  such  a  hand  ?     I  tell  you,  he'll  refuse, 

Flatly  refuse  to  obey  the  imperial  orders. 

Friend,  he  can  do  it,  and  what  he  can,  he  will. 

And  then  the  impunity  of  his  defiance  — 

Oh  !  what  a  proclamation  of  our  weakness ! 

OCTAVIO. 

D'ye  think,  too,  he  has  brought  his  wife  and  daughter 
Without  a  purpose  hither  ?     Here  in  camp  ! 
And  at  the  very  point  of  time  in  which 


20  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

We're  arming  for  the  war  ?     That  he  has  taken 
These,  the  last  pledges  of  his  loyalty, 
Away  from  out  the  emperor's  dominions  — 
This  is  no  doubtful  token  of  the  nearness 
Of  some  eruption. 

QUESTENBERG. 

How  shall  we  hold  footing 
Beneath  this  tempest,  which  collects  itself 
And  threats  us  from  all  quarters  ?     The  enemy 
Of  the  empire  on  our  borders,  now  already 
The  master  of  the  Danube,  and  still  farther, 
And  farther  still,  extending  every  hour ! 
In  our  interior  the  alarum-bells 
Of  insurrection  —  peasantry  in  arms  — 
All  orders  discontented  —  and  the  army, 
Just  in  the  moment  of  our  expectation 
Of  aidance  from  it  —  lo  !  this  very  army 
Seduced,  run  wild,  lost  to  all  discipline, 
Loosened,  and  rent  asunder  from  the  state 
And  from  their  sovereign,  the  blind  instrument 
Of  the  most  daring  of  mankind,  a  weapon 
Of  fearful  power,  which  at  his  will  he  wields. 

OCTAVIO. 

Nay,  nay,  friend !  let  us  not  despair  too  soon  — 
Men's  words  are  even  bolder  than  their  deeds ; 
And  many  a  resolute,  who  now  appears 
Made  up  to  all  extremes,  will,  on  a  sudden, 
Find  in  his  breast  a  heart  he  wot  not  of, 
Let  but  a  single  honest  man  speak  out 
The  true  name  of  his  crime !     Remember,  too, 
We  stand  not  yet  so  wholly  unprotected. 
Counts  Altringer  and  Gallas  have  maintained 
Their  little  army  faithful  to  its  duty, 
And  daily  it  becomes  more  numerous. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Nor  can  he  take  us  by  surprise ;  you  know 
I  hold  him  all  encompassed  by  my  listeners. 

Whate'er  he  does  is  mine,  even  while  'tis  doing 

No  step  so  small,  but  instantly  I  hear  it ; 
Yea,  his  own  mouth  discloses  it. 

QUESTENBEEG. 

Tis  quite 
Incomprehensible,  that  he  detects  not 
The  foe  so  near  ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Beware,  you  do  not  think, 
That  I,  by  lying  arts,  and  complaisant 
Hypocrisy,  have  sulked  into  his  graces, 
Or  with  the  substance  of  smooth  professions 
Nourish  his  all-confiding  friendship  !     No  — 
Compelled  alike  by  prudence,  and  that  duty 
Which  we  all  owe  our  country  and  our  sovereign, 
To  hide  my  genuine  feelings  from  him,  yet 
Ne'er  have  I  duped  him  with  base  counterfeits ! 

QUESTENBEEG. 

It  is  the  visible  ordinance  of  heaven. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  know  not  what  it  is  that  so  attracts 

And  links  him  both  to  me  and  to  my  son. 

Comrades  and  friends  we  always  were  —  long  habit, 

Adventurous  deeds  performed  in  company, 

And  all  those  many  and  various  incidents 

Which  stores  a  soldier's  memory  with  affections, 

Had  bound  us  long  and  early  to  each  other  — 

Yet  I  can  name  the  day,  when  all  at  once 

His  heart  rose  on  me,  and  his  confidence 

Shot  out  into  sudden  growth.     It  was  the  morning 


21 


22  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Before  the  memorable  fight  at  Liitzen. 

Urged  by  an  ugly  dream,  I  sought  him  out, 

To  press  him  to  accept  another  charger. 

At  a  distance  from  the  tents,  beneath  a  tree, 

I  found  him  in  a  sleep.     When  I  had  waked  him 

And  had  related  all  my  bodings  to  him, 

Long  time  he  stared  upon  me,  like  a  man 

Astounded :  thereon  fell  upon  my  neck, 

And  manifested  to  me  an  emotion 

That  far  outstripped  the  worth  of  that  small  service. 

Since  then  his  confidence  has  followed  me 

With  the  same  pace  that  mine  has  fled  from  him. 

QUESTENBERG. 

You  lead  your  son  into  the  secret  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

No! 

QUESTENBERG. 

What !  and  not  warn  him  either,  what  bad  hands 
His  lot  has  placed  him  in  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

I  must  perforce 
Leave  him  in  wardship  to  his  innocence. 
His  young  and  open  soul  —  dissimulation 
Is  foreign  to  its  habits !     Ignorance 
Alone  can  keep  alive  the  cheerful  air, 
The  unembarrassed  sense  and  light  free  spirit, 
That  makes  the  duke  secure. 

questenberg  (anxiously). 

My  honoured  friend !  most  highly  do  I  deem 
Of  Colonel  Piccolomini  —  yet  —  if  — 
Keflect  a  little  — 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  23 


OCTAVIO. 

I  must  venture  it. 
Hush !     There  he  comes ! 


Scene  IV. 
Max.  Piccolomini,  Octavio  Piccolomini,  Questenberg. 

MAX. 

Ha !  there  he  is  himself.     Welcome,  my  father ! 

[He  embraces  his  father.  As  he  turns  around, 
he  observes  Questenberg,  and  draws  back 
with  a  cold  and  reserved  air. 

You  are  engaged,  I  see.     I'll  not  disturb  you. 

OCTAVIO. 

How,  Max.  ?     Look  closer  at  this  visitor. 
Attention,  Max.,  an  old  friend  merits  —  reverence 
Belongs  of  right  to  the  envoy  of  your  sovereign. 

MAX.  (drily). 

Von  Questenberg  !  —  welcome  —  if  you  bring  with  you 
Aught  good  to  our  headquarters. 

QUESTENBERG  (seizing  his  hand). 

Nay,  draw  not 
Your  hand  away,  Count  Piccolomini ! 
Not  on  my  own  account  alone  I  seized  it, 
And  nothing  common  will  I  say  therewith. 

[Taking  the  hands  of  both. 
Octavio  —  Max.  Piccolomini ! 
0  saviour  names,  and  full  of  happy  omen ! 
Ne'er  will  her  prosperous  genius  turn  from  Austria, 


24  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

While  two  such  stars,  with  blessed  influences 
Beaming  protection,  shine  above  her  hosts. 

MAX. 

Heh !     Noble  minister !     You  miss  your  part. 
You  come  not  here  to  act  a  panegyric. 
You're  sent,  I  know,  to  find  fault  and  to  scold  us  — 
I  must  not  be  beforehand  with  my  comrades. 

OCTAVIO  to  MAX. 

He  comes  from  court,  where  people  are  not  quite 
So  well  contented  with  the  duke  as  here. 

MAX. 

What  now  have  they  contrived  to  find  out  in  him  ? 

That  he  alone  determines  for  himself 

What  he  himself  alone  doth  understand ! 

Well,  therein  he  does  right,  and  will  persist  in't. 

Heaven  never  meant  him  for  that  passive  thing 

That  can  be  struck  and  hammered  out  to  suit 

Another's  taste  and  fancy.     He'll  not  dance 

To  every  tune  of  every  minister. 

It  goes  against  his  nature  —  he  can't  do  it, 

He  is  possessed  by  a  commanding  spirit, 

And  his,  too,  is  the  station  of  command. 

And  well  for  us  it  is  so !     There  exist 

Few  fit  to  rule  themselves,  but  few  that  use 

Their  intellects  intelligently.     Then 

Well  for  the  whole,  if  there  be  found  a  man 

Who  makes  himself  what  nature  destined  him, 

The  pause,  the  central  point,  to  thousand  thousands  • 

Stands  fixed  and  stately,  like  a  firm-built  column, 

Where  all  may  press  with  joy  and  confidence  — 

Now  such  a  man  is  Wallenstein ;  and  if 

Another  better  suits  the  court  —  no  other 

But  such  a  one  as  he  can  serve  the  army. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 
QUESTENBERG. 

The  army  ?     Doubtless  ! 

MAX. 

What  delight  to  observe 

How  he  incites  and  strengthens  all  around  him, 
Infusing  life  and  vigour.     Every  power 
Seems  as  it  were  redoubled  by  his  presence : 
He  draws  forth  every  latent  energy, 
Showing  to  each  his  own  peculiar  talent, 
Yet  leaving  all  to  be  what  nature  made  them, 
And  watching  only  that  they  be  naught  else 
In  the  right  place  and  time ;  and  he  has  skill 
To  mould  the  powers  of  all  to  his  own  end. 

QUESTENBERG. 

But  who  denies  his  knowledge  of  mankind, 
And  skill  to  use  it  ?     Our  complaint  is  this  :  — 
That  in  the  master  he  forgets  the  servant, 
As  if  he  claimed  by  birth  his  present  honours. 

MAX. 

And  does  he  not  so  ?     Is  he  not  endowed 
With  every  gift  and  power  to  carry  out 
The  high  intents  of  nature,  and  to  win 
A  ruler's  station  by  a  ruler's  talent  ? 

QUESTENBERG. 

So  then  it  seems  to  rest  with  him  alone 
What  is  the  worth  of  all  mankind  beside ! 

MAX. 

Uncommon  men  require  no  common  trust ; 
Give  him  but  scope  and  he  will  set  the  bounds. 


26  THE    P1CCOLOMINI 

QUESTENBERG. 

The  proof  is  yet  to  come. 

MAX. 

Thus  are  ye  ever. 
Ye  shrink  from  everything  of  depth,  and  think 
Yourselves  are  only  safe  while  ye're  in  shallows. 

OCTAVIO  (to  QUESTENBERG). 

'Twere  best  to  yield  with  a  good  grace,  my  friend ; 
Of  him  there  you'll  make  nothing. 

MAX.  (continuing). 

In  their  fear 
They  call  a  spirit  up,  and  when  he  comes, 
Straight  their  flesh  creeps  and  quivers,  and  they  dread 

him 
More  than  the  ills  for  which  they  called  him  up. 
The  uncommon,  the  sublime,  must  seem  and  be 
Like  things  of  every  day.     But  in  the  field, 
Ay,  there  the  Present  Being  makes  itself  felt. 
The  personal  must  command,  the  actual  eye 
Examine.     If  to  be  the  chieftain  asks 
All  that  is  great  in  nature,  let  it  be 
Likewise  his  privilege  to  move  and  act 
In  all  the  correspondences  of  greatness. 
The  oracle  within  him,  that  which  lives, 
He  must  invoke  and  question  —  not  dead  books, 
Not  ordinances,  not  mould-rotted  papers. 

OCTAVIO. 

My  son !  of  those  old  narrow  ordinances 
Let  us  not  hold  too  lightly.     They  are  weights 
Of  priceless  value,  which  oppressed  mankind 
Tied  to  the  volatile  will  of  their  oppressors. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 


27 


For  always  formidable  was  the  League 
And  partnership  of  free  power  with  free  will. 
The  way  of  ancient  ordinance,  though  it  winds, 
Is  yet  no  devious  path.     Straight  forward  goes 
The  lightning's  path,  and  straight  the  fearful  path 
Of  the  cannon-ball.     Direct  it  flies,  and  rapid ; 
Shattering  that  it  may  reach,  and  shattering  what  it 

reaches. 
My  son,  the  road  the  human  being  travels, 
That  on  which  blessing  comes  and  goes,  doth  follow 
The  river's  course,  the  valley's  playful  windings, 
Curves  round  the  cornfield  and  the  hill  of  vines, 
Honouring  the  holy  bounds  of  property ! 
And  thus  secure,  though  late,  leads  to  its  end. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Oh,  hear  your  father,  noble  youth  !  hear  him 
Who  is  at  once  the  hero  and  the  man. 

OCTAVIO. 

My  son,  the  nursling  of  the  camp  spoke  in  thee  ! 

A  war  of  fifteen  years 

Hath  been  thy  education  and  thy  school. 

Peace  hast  thou  never  witnessed !     There  exists 

An  higher  than  the  warrior's  excellence. 

In  war  itself  war  is  no  ultimate  purpose ; 

The  vast  and  sudden  deeds  of  violence, 

Adventures  wild,  and  wonders  of  the  moment, 

These  are  not  they,  my  son,  that  generate 

The  calm,  the  blissful,  and  the  enduring  mighty ! 

Lo  there  !  the  soldier,  rapid  architect ! 

Builds  his  light  town  of  canvas,  and  at  once 

The  whole  scene  moves  and  bustles  momently. 

With  arms,  and  neighing  steeds,  and  mirth  and  quarrel 

The  motley  market  fills  ;  the  roads,  the  streams, 

Are  crowded  with  new  freights  ;  trade  stirs  and  hurries, 


28  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

But  on  some  morrow  morn,  all  suddenly, 

The  tents  drop  down,  the  horde  renews  its  march. 

Dreary,  and  solitary  as  a  churchyard, 

The  meadow  and  down-trodden  seed-plot  lie, 

And  the  year's  harvest  is  gone  utterly. 

MAX. 

Oh,  let  the  emperor  make  peace,  my  father  ! 
Most  gladly  would  I  give  the  blood-stained  laurel 
For  the  first  violet 1  of  the  leafless  spring, 
Plucked  in  those  quiet  fields  where  I  have  journeyed. 

OCTAVIO. 

What  ails  thee  ?     What  so  moves  thee  all  at  once  ? 

MAX. 

Peace  have  I  ne'er  beheld  ?     I  have  beheld  it. 

From  thence  am  I  come  hither :  oh,  that  sight, 

It  glimmers  still  before  me,  like  some  landscape 

Left  in  the  distance,  —  some  delicious  landscape  ! 

My  road  conducted  me  through  countries  where 

The  war  has  not  yet  reached.     Life,  life,  my  father 

My  venerable  father,  life  has  charms 

Which  we  have  never  experienced.     We  have  been 

But  voyaging  along  its  barren  coasts, 

Like  some  poor  ever-roaming  horde  of  pirates, 

That,  crowded  in  the  rank  and  narrow  ship, 

House  on  the  wild  sea  with  wild  usages, 

Nor  know  aught  of  the  mainland,  but  the  bays 

Where  safeliest  they  may  venture  a  thieves'  landing. 

Whate'er  in  the  inland  dales  the  land  conceals 

1  In  the  original,  — 

"  Den  blut'gen  Lorbeer  geb'  ich  hin  mit  Freuden, 
Furs  erste  Veilchen,  das  der  Marz  uns  bringt, 
Das  diirftige  Pfand  der  neuverjiingten  Erde." 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  29 

Of  fair  and  exquisite,  oh,  nothing,  nothing, 
Do  we  behold  of  that  in  our  rude  voyage. 

octavio  (attentive,  with  an  appearance  of  uneasiness). 
And  so  your  journey  has  revealed  this  to  you  ? 

MAX. 

'Twas  the  first  leisure  of  my  life.     0  tell  me, 

What  is  the  meed  and  purpose  of  the  toil, 

The  painful  toil  which  robbed  me  of  my  youth, 

Left  me  a  heart  unsouled  and  solitary, 

A  spirit  uninformed,  unornamented  ! 

For  the  camp's  stir,  and  crowd,  and  ceaseless  larum, 

The  neighing  war-horse,  the  air-shattering  trumpet, 

The  unvaried,  still  returning  hour  of  duty, 

Word  of  command,  and  exercise  of  arms  — 

There's  nothing  here,  there's  nothing  in  all  this, 

To  satisfy  the  heart,  the  gasping  heart ! 

Mere  bustling  nothingness,  where  the  soul  is  not  — 

This  cannot  be  the  sole  felicity, 

These  cannot  be  man's  best  and  only  pleasures 

OCTAVIO. 

Much  hast  thou  learnt,  my  son,  in  this  short  journey. 

MAX. 

Oh  day,  thrice  lovely  !  when  at  length  the  soldier 

Eeturns  home  into  life;  when  he  becomes 

A  fellow  man  among  his  fellow  men. 

The  colours  are  unfurled,  the  cavalcade 

Marshals,  and  now  the  buzz  is  hushed,  and  hark  ! 

Now  the  soft  peace-march  beats,  home,  brothers,  home  ! 

The  caps  and  helmet  are  all  garlanded 

With  green  boughs,  the  last  plundering  of  the  fields. 

The  city  gates  fly  open  of  themselves, 

They  need  no  longer  the  petard  to  tear  them. 


30  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

The  ramparts  are  all  filled  with  men  and  women, 
With  peaceful  men  and  women,  that  send  onwards 
Kisses  and  welcomings  upon  the  air, 
Which  they  make  breezy  with  affectionate  gestures. 
From  all  the  towers  rings  out  the  merry  peal, 
The  joyous  vespers  of  a  bloody  day. 

0  happy  man,  O  fortunate  !  for  whom 

The  well-known  door,  the  faithful  arms  are  open, 
The  faithful  tender  arms  with  mute  embracing. 

QUESTENBERG  (apparently  much  affected). 

0  that  you  should  speak 
Of  such  a  distant,  distant  time,  and  not 
Of  the  to-morrow,  not  of  this  to-day. 

max.  (turning  round  to  him  quick  and  vehement). 

Where  lies  the  fault  but  on  you  in  Vienna ! 

1  will  deal  openly  with  you,  Questenberg. 
Just  now,  as  first  I  saw  you  standing  here 
(I'll  own  it  to  you  freely),  indignation 
Crowded  and  pressed  my  inmost  soul  together. 
'Tis  ye  that  hinder  peace,  ye  !  —  and  the  warrior, 
It  is  the  warrior  that  must  force  it  from  you. 

Ye  fret  the  general's  life  out,  blacken  him, 

Hold  him  up  as  a  rebel,  and  heaven  knows 

What  else  still  worse,  because  he  spares  the  Saxons, 

And  tries  to  awaken  confidence  in  the  enemy ; 

Which  yet's  the  only  way  to  peace :  for  if 

War  intermit  not  during  war,  how  then 

And  whence  can  peace  come  ?     Your  own  plagues  fall 

on  you ! 
Even  as  I  love  what's  virtuous,  hate  I  you. 
And  here  I  make  this  vow,  here  pledge  myself, 
My  blood  shall  spurt  out  for  this  Wallenstein, 
And  my  heart  drain  off,  drop  by  drop,  ere  ye 
Shall  revel  and  dance  jubilee  o'er  his  ruin.  [Exit. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  31 

Scene  V. 

QUESTENBERG,    OCTAVIO    PlCCOLOMINI. 
QUESTENBERG. 

Alas  !  alas  !  and  stands  it  so  ? 

[Then  in  pressing  and  impatient  tones. 
What,  friend  !  and  do  we  let  him  go  away 
In  this  delusion  —  let  him  go  away  ? 
Not  call  him  back  immediately,  not  open 
His  eyes  upon  the  spot  ? 

OCTAVIO  (recovering  himself  out  of  a  deep  study). 

He  has  now  opened  mine, 
And  I  see  more  than  pleases  me. 

QUESTENBERG. 

What  is  it  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

Curse  on  this  journey  ! 

QUESTENBERG. 

But  why  so  ?     What  is  it  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

Come,  come  along,  friend  !     I  must  follow  up 
The  ominous  track  immediately.     Mine  eyes 
Are  opened  now,  and  I  must  use  them.     Come  i 

[Draws  Questenberg  on  with  him. 

QUESTENBERG. 

What  now  ?      Where  go  you  then  ? 


32  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

OCTAVIO. 


To  her  herself. 

QUESTENBERG. 


To  — 


OCTAVIO  (interrupting  him  and  correcting  himself). 

To  the  duke.     Come,    let    us    go  —     'Tis    done,  'tis 

done, 
I  see  the  net  that  is  thrown  over  him. 
Oh !  he  returns  not  to  me  as  he  went. 

QUESTENBERG. 

Nay,  but  explain  yourself. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  that  I  should  not 
Foresee  it,  not  prevent  this  journey  !     Wherefore 
Did  I  keep  it  from  him  ?     You  were  in  the  right. 
I  should  have  warned  him.     Now  it  is  too  late. 

QUESTENBERG. 

But  what's  too  late  ?     Bethink  yourself,  my  friend, 
That  you  are  talking  absolute  riddles  to  me. 

octavio  (m,ore  collected). 

Come !  to  the  duke's.     'Tis  close  upon  the  hour 
Which  he  appointed  you  for  audience.     Come ! 
A  curse,  a  threefold  curse,  upon  this  journey  ! 

[He  leads  Questenberg  off. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  33 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I. 

Changes  to  a  spacious  chamber  in  the  house  of  the  Duke  of 
Friedland.  Servants  employed  in  putting  the  tables 
and  chairs  in  order.  During  this  enters  Seni,  like 
an  old  Italian  doctor,  in  black,  and  clothed  somewhat 
fantastically.  He  carries  a  white  staff,  with  which 
he  marks  out  the  quarters  of  the  heavens. 

FIRST    SERVANT. 

Come  —  to  it,  lads,  to  it !  Make  an  end  of  it.  I 
hear  the  sentry  call  out,  "  Stand  to  your  arms ! "  They 
will  be  here  in  a  minute. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

Why  were  we  not  told  before  that  the  audience 
would  be  held  here  ?  Nothing  prepared  —  no  orders 
—  no  instructions. 

THIRD    SERVANT. 

Ay,  and  why  was  the  balcony  chamber  counter- 
manded, that  with  the  great  worked  carpet  ?  There 
one  can  look  about  one. 

FIRST    SERVANT. 

Nay,  that  you  must  ask  the  mathematician  there. 
He  says  it  is  an  unlucky  chamber. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

Poh !  stuff  and  nonsense !  that's  what  I  call  a  hum. 
A  chamber  is  a  chamber;  what  much  can  the  place 
signify  in  the  affair  ? 


34  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

seni  {with  gravity). 

My  son,  there's  nothing  insignificant, 
Nothing  I     But  yet  in  every  earthly  thing, 
First  and  most  principal  is  place  and  time. 

first  servant  (to  the  second). 

Say  nothing  to  him,  Nat.     The  duke  himself  must 
let  him  have  his  own  will. 

SENI  (counts  the  chairs,  half  in  a  loud,  half  in  a  low 
voice,  till  he  comes  to  eleven,  which  he  repeats). 

Eleven  !  an  evil  number  !     Set  twelve  chairs. 
Twelve !  twelve  signs  hath  the  zodiac :  five  and  seven, 
The  holy  numbers,  include  themselves  in  twelve. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

And  what  may  you  have  to  object  against  eleven  ? 
I  should  like  to  know  that  now. 

SENI. 

Eleven  is  transgression ;  eleven  oversteps 
The  ten  commandments. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

That's   good  ?    and  why    do    you    call   five  a  holy 
number  ? 

SENI. 

Five  is  the  soul  of  man :  for  even  as  man 
Is  mingled  up  of  good  and  evil,  so 
The  five  is  the  first  number  that's  made  up 
Of  even  and  odd. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

The  foolish  old  coxcomb  ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  35 

FIRST    SERVANT. 

Ay,  let  him  alone  though.  I  like  to  hear  him; 
there  is  more  in  his  words  than  can  be  seen  at  first 
sight. 

THIRD    SERVANT. 

Off,  they  come. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

There  !     Out  at  the  side-door. 

[They  hurry  off.  Seni  follows  slowly.  A  page 
brings  the  staff  of  command  on  a  red  cushion, 
and  places  it  on  the  table,  near  the  duke's 
chair.  They  are  announced  from  without, 
and  the  wings  of  the  door  fly  open. 

Scene  II. 

Wallenstein,  Duchess. 

wallenstein. 

You  went,  then,  through  Vienna,  were  presented 
To  the  Queen  of  Hungary  ? 

DUCHESS. 

Yes ;  and  to  the  empress,  too, 

And  by  both  majesties  were  we  admitted 

To  kiss  the  hand. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  how  was  it  received, 
That  I  had  sent  for  wife  and  daughter  hither 
To  the  camp,  in  winter-time  ? 

DUCHESS. 

I  did  even  that 
Which  you  commissioned  me  to  do.     I  told  them 


36  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

You  had  determined  on  our  daughter's  marriage, 
And  wished,  ere  you  went  into  the  field, 
To  show  the  elected  husband  his  betrothed. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

And  did  they  guess  the  choice  which  I  had  made  ? 

DUCHESS. 

They  only  hoped  and  wished  it  may  have  fallen 
Upon  no  foreign  nor  yet  Lutheran  noble. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  you  —  what  do  you  wish,  Elizabeth  ? 

DUCHESS. 

Your  will,  you  know,  was  always  mine. 

wallenstein  {after  a  pause). 

Well,  then,— 
And  in  all  else,  of  what  kind  and  complexion 
"Was  your  reception  at  the  court  ? 

[The  Duchess  casts  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  and 
remains  silent. 
Hide  nothing  from  me.     How  were  you  received  ? 

DUCHESS. 

O !  my  dear  lord,  all  is  not  what  it  was. 
A  canker-worm,  my  lord,  a  canker-worm 
Has  stolen  into  the  bud. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Ay  !  is  it  so  ? 
What,  they  were  lax  ?  they  failed  of  the  old  respect  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  37 


DUCHESS. 


Not  of  respect.     No  honours  were  omitted, 

No  outward  courtesy  ;  but  in  the  place 

Of  condescending,  confidential  kindness, 

Familiar  and  endearing,  there  were  given  me 

Only  these  honours  and  that  solemn  courtesy. 

Ah !  and  the  tenderness  which  was  put  on, 

It  was  the  guise  of  pity,  not  of  favour. 

No  !  Albrecht's  wife,  Duke  Albrecht's  princely  wife, 

Count  Harrach's  noble  daughter,  should  not  so  — 

Not  wholly  so  should  she  have  been  received. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Yes,  yes ;  they  have  taken  offence.     My  latest  conduct 
They  railed  at  it,  no  doubt. 

DUCHESS. 

O  that  they  had ! 
I  have  been  long  accustomed  to  defend  you, 
To  heal  and  pacify  distempered  spirits. 
No ;  no  one  railed  at  you.     They  wrapped  them  up, 
O  Heaven  !  in  such  oppressive,  solemn  silence ! 
Here  is  no  every-day  misunderstanding, 
No  transient  pique,  no  cloud  that  passes  over ; 
Something  most  luckless,  most  unhealable, 
Has  taken  place.     The  Queen  of  Hungary 
Used  formerly  to  call  me  her  dear  aunt, 
And  ever  at  departure  to  embrace  me  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Now  she  omitted  it  ? 

duchess  {wiping  away  her  tears  after  a  pause). 

She  did  embrace  me, 
But  then  first  when  I  had  already  taken 


38  THE    PICCOLOMIN! 

My  formal  leave,  and  when  the  door  already 
Had  closed  upon  me,  then  did  she  come  out 
In  haste,  as  she  had  suddenly  bethought  herself, 
And  pressed  me  to  her  bosom,  more  with  anguish 
Than  tenderness. 

WALLENSTEIN  (seizes  her  hand  soothingly). 

Nay,  now  collect  yourself. 
And  what  of  Eggenberg  and  Lichtenstein, 
And  of  our  other  friends  there  ? 

duchess  (shaking  her  head). 

I  saw  none. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  ambassador  from  Spain,  who  once  was  wont 
To  plead  so  warmly  for  me  ? 

DUCHESS. 

Silent,  silent ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

These  suns  then  are  eclipsed  for  us.     Henceforward 
Must  we  roll  on,  our  own  fire,  our  own  light. 

DUCHESS. 

And  were  it  —  were  it,  my  dear  lord,  in  that 
Which  moved  about  the  court  in  buzz  and  whisper, 
But  in  the  country  let  itself  be  heard 
Aloud  —  in  that  which  Father  Lanormain 
In  sundry  hints  and  — 

WALLENSTEIN  (eagerly). 

Lanormain  !  what  said  he  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMIN1  39 

DUCHESS. 

That  you're  accused  of  having  daringly 

O'erstepped  the  powers  intrusted  to  you,  charged 

With  traitorous  contempt  of  the  emperor 

And  his  supreme  behests.     The  proud  Bavarian, 

He  and  the  Spaniards  stand  up  your  accusers  — 

That  there's  a  storm  collecting  over  you 

Of  far  more  fearful  menace  than  the  former  one 

Which  whirled  you  headlong  down  at  Eegensburg. 

And  people  talk,  said  he,  of  —  Ah  ! 

[Stifling  extreme  emotion. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Proceed ! 

DUCHESS. 

I  cannot  utter  it ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Proceed ! 

DUCHESS. 

They  talk  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

WeU! 

DUCHESS. 
Of  a  second  —  {catches  her  voice  and  hesitates). 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Second  — 

DUCHESS. 

Most  disgraceful 
Dismission. 


4o  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Talk  they  ? 
[Strides  across  the  chamber  in  vehement  agitation. 
O  !  they  force,  they  thrust  me 
With  violence,  against  my  own  will,  onward ! 

duchess  (presses  near  to  him  in  entreaty). 

Oh  !  if  there  yet  be  time,  my  husband  !  if 

By  giving  way  and  by  submission,  this 

Can  be  averted  —  my  dear  lord,  give  way  ! 

Win  down  your  proud  heart  to  it !     Tell  the  heart, 

It  is  your  sovereign  lord,  your  emperor, 

Before  whom  you  retreat.     Oh  !  let  no  longer 

Low  trickling  malice  blacken  your  good  meaning 

With  abhorred  venomous  glosses.     Stand  you  up 

Shielded  and  helmed  and  weaponed  with  the  truth, 

And  drive  before  you  into  uttermost  shame 

These  slanderous  bars  !     Few  firm  friends  have  we  — 

You  know  it !     The  swift  growth  of  our  good  fortune, 

It  hath  but  set  us  up  a  mark  for  hatred. 

What  are  we,  if  the  sovereign's  grace  and  favour 

Stand  not  before  us ! 


Scene  III. 

Enter  the   Countess  Terzky,  leading  in  her  hand  the 
Princess  Thekla,  richly  adorned  with  brilliants. 

Countess  Thekla,  Wallenstein,  Duchess. 

countess. 

How,  sister  !     What,  already  upon  business  ? 

[Observing  the  countenance  of  the  DUCHESS. 
And  business  of  no  pleasing  kind  I  see, 
Ere  he  has  gladdened  at  his  child.     The  first 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  41 

Moment  belongs  to  joy.     Here,  Friedland  !  father ! 

This  is  thy  daughter. 

[Thekla  approaches  with  a  shy  and  timid  air,  and 
bends  herself  as  about  to  kiss  his  hand.  He 
receives  her  in  his  arms,  and  remains  stand- 
ing for  some  time  lost  in  the  feeling  of  her 
presence. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Yes !  pure  and  lovely  hath  hope  risen  on  me, 
I  take  her  as  the  pledge  of  greater  fortune. 

DUCHESS. 

'Twas  but  a  little  child  when  you  departed 
To  raise  up  that  great  army  for  the  emperor : 
And  after,  at  the  close  of  the  campaign, 
When  you  returned  home  out  of  Pomerania, 
Your  daughter  was  already  in  the  convent, 
Wherein  she  has  remained  till  now. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  while 
We  in  the  field  here  gave  our  cares  and  toils 
To  make  her  great,  and  fight  her  a  free  way 
To  the  loftiest  earthly  good ;  lo !  mother  Nature 
Within  the  peaceful,  silent  convent  walls, 
Has  done  her  part,  and  out  of  her  free  grace 
Hath  she  bestowed  on  the  beloved  child 
The  god-like ;  and  now  leads  her  thus  adorned 
To  meet  her  splendid  fortune,  and  my  hope. 

DUCHESS  (to  THEKLA). 

Thou  wouldst  not  now  have  recognised  thy  father, 
Wouldst  thou,  my  child  ?     She  counted  scarce  eight 

years 
When  last  she  saw  your  face. 


42  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

THEKLA. 

0  yes,  yes,  mother ! 
At  the  first  glance !     My  father  has  not  altered. 
The  form  that  stands  before  me  falsifies 
No  feature  of  the  image  that  hath  lived 
So  long  within  me ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  voice  of  my  child ! 

[Then  after  a  pause. 
I  was  indignant  at  my  destiny, 
That  it  denied  me  a  man-child,  to  be 
Heir  of  my  name  and  of  my  prosperous  fortune, 
And  re-illume  my  soon-extinguished  being 
In  a  proud  line  of  princes. 
I  wronged  my  destiny.     Here  upon  this  head, 
So  lovely  in  its  maiden  bloom,  will  I 
Let  fall  the  garland  of  a  life  of  war, 
Nor  deem  it  lost,  if  only  I  can  wreath  it, 
Transmuted  to  a  regal  ornament, 
Around  these  beauteous  brows. 

[He  clasps  her  in  his  arms  as  PICCOLOMINI  enters. 


Scene  IV. 

Enter  Max.  Piccolomini,  and  some  time  after  Count 
Terzky,  the  others  remaining  as  before. 

COUNTESS. 

There  comes  the  Paladin  who  protected  us. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Max. !     Welcome,  ever  welcome !     Always  wert  thou 
The  morning  star  of  my  best  joys ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  43 

MAX. 

My  general  — 

WALLEN  STEIN. 

Till  now  it  was  the  emperor  who  rewarded  thee, 
I  but  the  instrument.     This  day  thou  hast  bound 
The  father  to  thee,  Max. !  the  fortunate  father, 
And  this  debt  Friedland's  self  must  pay. 


MAX. 

My  prince ! 
You  made  no  common  hurry  to  transfer  it. 
I  come  with  shame :  yea,  not  without  a  pang ! 
For  scarce  have  I  arrived  here,  scarce  delivered 
The  mother  and  the  daughter  to  your  arms, 
But  there  is  brought  to  me  from  your  equerry x 
A  splendid  richly-plated  hunting  dress 
So  to  remunerate  me  for  my  troubles  — 
Yes,  yes,  remunerate  me,  —  since  a  trouble 
It  must  be,  a  mere  office,  not  a  favour 
Which  I  leaped  forward  to  receive,  and  which 
I  came  with  grateful  heart  to  thank  you  for. 
No !  'twas  not  so  intended,  that  my  business 
Should  be  my  highest  best  good  fortune ! 

[Terzky  enters,  and  delivers  letters  to  the  Duke, 
which  he  breaks  open  hurriedly. 


1 A  reviewer  in  the  Literary  Gazette  observes  that,  in  these 
lines,  Mr.  Coleridge  has  misapprehended  the  meaning  of  the 
word  "  zug,"  a  team,  translating  it  as  "  anzug,"  a  suit  of  clothes. 
The  following  version,  as  a  substitute,  I  propose  : 

When  from  your  stables  there  is  brought  to  me 
A  team  of  four  most  richly  harnessed  horses. 

The  term,  however,  is  "jagd-zug,"  which  may  mean  a  "hunting 
equipage,"  or  a  "  hunting  stud  ;  "  although  Hilpert  gives  only  "  a 
team  of  four  horses." 


44  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

COUNTESS  (to  MAX). 

Eemunerate  your  trouble  !     For  his  joy- 
He  makes  you  recompense.     Tis  not  unfitting 
For  you,  Count  Piccolomini,  to  feel 
So  tenderly  —  my  brother  it  beseems 
To  show  himself  for  ever  great  and  princely. 

THEKLA. 

Then  I  too  must  have  scruples  of  his  love : 
For  his  munificent  hands  did  ornament  me 
Ere  yet  the  father's  heart  had  spoken  to  me. 

MAX. 

Yes ;  'tis  his  nature  ever  to  be  giving 
And  making  happy. 

[He  grasps  the  hand  of  the  Duchess  with  still 
increasing  warmth. 

How  my  heart  pours  out 
Its  all  of  thanks  to  him  !     0  !  how  I  seem 
To  utter  all  things  in  the  dear  name  —  Friedland. 
While  I  shall  live,  so  long  will  I  remain 
The  captive  of  this  name  :  in  it  shall  bloom 
My  every  fortune,  every  lovely  hope. 
Inextricably  as  in  some  magic  ring 
In  this  name  hath  my  destiny  charm-bound  me ! 

COUNTESS  (who  during  this  time  has  been  anxiously 
watching  the  duke,  and  remarks  that  he  is  lost 
in  thought  over  the  letters). 

My  brother  wishes  us  to  leave  him.     Come. 

wallenstein  (turns  himself  around  quick,  collects  him- 
self, and  speaks  with  cheerfulness  to  the  duchess). 

Once  more  I  bid  thee  welcome  to  the  camp, 
Thou  art  the  hostess  of  this  court.     You,  Max., 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  45 

Will  now  again  administer  your  old  office, 
While  we  perform  the  sovereign's  business  here. 

[Max.  Piccolomini  offers  the  Duchess  his  arm; 
the  Countess  accompanies  the  Princess. 

TERZKY  (calling  after  him). 
Max.,  we  depend  on  seeing  you  at  the  meeting. 


Scene  V. 
Wallenstein,  Count  Terzky. 

wallenstein  (in  deep  thought,  to  himself). 

She  has  seen  all  things  as  they  are  —  it  is  so, 

And  squares  completely  with  my  other  notices ; 

They  have  determined  finally  in  Vienna, 

Have  given  me  my  successor  already ; 

It  is  the  King  of  Hungary,  Ferdinand, 

The  emperor's  delicate  son  !  he's  now  their  saviour, 

He's  the  new  star  that's  rising  now !     Of  us 

They  think  themselves  already  fairly  rid, 

And  as  we  were  deceased,  the  heir  already 

Is  entering  on  possession  —  Therefore  —  despatch  ! 

[As  he  turns  around  he  observes  Terzky,  and  gives 
him  a  letter. 

Count  Altringer  will  have  himself  excused, 
And  Gallas  too  —  I  like  not  this  ! 

TERZKY. 

And  if 

Thou  loiterest  longer,  all  will  fall  away, 
One  following  the  other. 


46  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Altringer 
Is  master  of  the  Tyrol  passes.     I  must  forthwith 
Send  some  one  to  him,  that  he  let  not  in 
The  Spaniards  on  me  from  the  Milanese. 
—  Well,  and  the  old  Sesin,  that  ancient  trader 
In  contraband  negotiations,  he 
Has  shown  himself  again  of  late.     What  brings  he 
From  the  Count  Thur  ? 

TEEZKY. 

The  count  communicates 
He  has  found  out  the  Swedish  chancellor 
At  Halberstadt,  where  the  convention's  held, 
Who  says,  you've  tired  him  out,  and  that  he'll  have 
No  further  dealings  with  you. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  why  so  ? 

TEEZKY. 

He  says,  you  are  never  in  earnest  in  your  speeches ; 
That  you  decoy  the  Swedes  —  to  make  fools  of  them  ; 
Will  league  yourself  with  Saxony  against  them, 
And  at  last  make  yourself  a  riddance  of  them 
With  a  paltry  sum  of  money. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

So  then,  doubtless, 
Yes,  doubtless,  this  same  modest  Swede  expects 
That  I  shall  yield  him  some  fair  German  tract 
For  his  prey  and  booty,  that  ourselves  at  last 
On  our  own  soil  and  native  territory 
May  be  no  longer  our  own  lords  and  masters ! 
An  excellent  scheme  !     No,  no  !     They  must  be  off, 
Off,  off !  away  !  we  want  no  such  neighbours. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 


TERZKY. 


47 


Nay,  yield  them  up  that  dot,  that  speck  of  land  — 
It  goes  not  from  your  portion.     If  you  win 
The  game,  what  matters  it  to  you  who  pays  it  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Off  with  them,  off !     Thou  understands  not  this. 
Never  shall  it  be  said  of  me,  I  parcelled 
My  native  land  away,  dismembered  Germany, 
Betrayed  it  to  a  foreigner,  in  order 
To  come  with  stealthy  tread,  and  filch  away 
My  own  share  of  the  plunder  —  Never  !  never  ! 
No  foreign  power  shall  strike  root  in  the  empire, 
And  least  of  all  these  Goths !  these  hungry  wolves ! 
Who  send  such  envious,  hot,  and  greedy  glances 
Toward  the  rich  blessings  of  our  German  lands ! 
I'll  have  their  aid  to  cast  and  draw  my  nets, 
But  not  a  single  fish  of  all  the  draught 
Shall  they  come  in  for. 

TERZKY. 

You  will  deal,  however, 
More  fairly  with  the  Saxons  ?  they  lose  patience 
While  you  shift  round  and  make  so  many  curves. 
Say,  to  what  purpose  all  these  masks  ?     Your  friends 
Are   plunged    in    doubts,    baffled,   and   led    astray   in 

you. 
There's  Oxenstiern,  there's  Arnheim  —  neither  knows 
What  he  should  think  of  your  procrastinations, 
And  in  the  end  I  prove  the  liar  ;  all 
Passes  through  me.     I've  not  even  your  handwriting. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  never  give  handwriting ;  and  thou  knowest  it. 


48  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

TERZKY. 

But  how  can  it  be  known  that  you  are  in  earnest, 

If  the  act  follows  not  upon  the  word  ? 

You  must  yourself  acknowledge,  that  in  all 

Your  intercourses  hitherto  with  the  enemy, 

You  might  have  done  with  safety  all  you  have  done, 

Had  you  meant  nothing  further  than  to  gull  him 

For  the  emperor's  service. 

wallenstein  {after  a  pause,  during  which  he  looks 
narrowly  on  terzky). 

And  from  whence  dost  thou  know 
That  I'm  not  gulling  him  for  the  emperor's  service  ? 
Whence  knowest  thou  that  I'm  not  gulling  all  of  you  1 
Dost  thou  know  me  so  well  ?     When  made  I  thee 
The  intendant  of  my  secret  purposes  ? 
I  am  not  conscious  that  I  ever  opened 
My  inmost  thoughts  to  thee.     The  emperor,  it  is  true, 
Hath  dealt  with  me  amiss ;  and  if  I  would 
I  could  repay  him  with  usurious  interest 
For  the  evil  he  hath  done  me.     It  delights  me 
To  know  my  power ;  but  whether  I  shall  use  it, 
Of  that  I  should  have  thought  that  thou  couldst  speak 
No  wiser  than  thy  fellows. 

TERZKY. 

So  hast  thou  always  played  thy  game  with  us. 

{Enter  Illo. 

Scene  VI. 

Illo,  Wallenstein,  Terzky. 

wallenstein. 
How  stand  affairs  without  ?     Are  they  prepared  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  49 

ILLO. 

You'll  find  them  in  the  very  mood  you  wish. 
They  know  about  the  emperor's  requisition, 
And  are  tumultuous. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

How  hath  Isolani 
Declared  himself  ? 

ILLO. 

He's  yours,  both  soul  and  body, 
Since  you  built  up  again  his  faro-bank. 

WA.LLENSTEIN. 

And  which  way  doth  Kolatto  bend  ?     Hast  thou 
Made  sure  of  Tiefenbach  and  Deodati  ? 

ILLO. 

What  Piccolomini  does  that  they  do  too. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You  mean,  then,  I  may  venture  somewhat  with  them  ? 

ILLO. 

If  you  are  assured  of  the  Piccolomini. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Not  more  assured  of  mine  own  self. 

TEEZKY. 

And  yet 
I  would  you  trusted  not  so  much  to  Octavio, 
The  fox ! 


5° 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Thou  teachest  me  to  know  my  man  ? 
Sixteen  campaigns  I  have  made  with  that  old  warrior. 
Besides,  I  have  his  horoscope ; 
We  both  are  born  beneath  like  stars  —  in  short, 

[  With  an  air  of  mystery. 
To  this  belongs  its  own  peculiar  aspect, 
If  therefore  thou  canst  warrant  me  the  rest  — 


ILLO. 


There  is  among  them  all  but  this  one  voice, 
You  must  not  lay  down  the  command.     I  hear 
They  mean  to  send  a  deputation  to  you. 


WALLENSTEIN. 


If  I'm  in  aught  to  bind  myself  to  them 
They  too  must  bind  themselves  to  me. 


ILLO. 

Of  course. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Their  words  of  honour  they  must  give,  their  oaths, 
Give  them  in  writing  to  me,  promising 
Devotion  to  my  service  unconditional 

ILLO. 
Why  not  ? 

TERZKY. 

Devotion  unconditional  ? 
The  exception  of  their  duties  toward  Austria 
They'll  always  place  among  the  premises. 
With  this  reserve  — 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  51 

WALLENSTEIN  {shaking  his  head). 

All  unconditional ; 
No  premises,  no  reserves. 

ILLO. 

A  thought  has  struck  me. 
Does  not  Count  Terzky  give  us  a  set  banquet 
This  evening  ? 

TERZKY. 

Yes  ;  and  all  the  generals 
Have  been  invited. 

ILLO  {to  "WALLENSTEIN). 

Say,  will  you  here  fully 
Commission  me  to  use  my  own  discretion  ? 
I'll  gain  for  you  the  generals'  word  of  honour, 
Even  as  you  wish. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Gain  me  their  signatures  ! 
How  you  come  by  them  that  is  your  concern. 

ILLO. 

And  if  I  bring  it  to  you  in  black  on  white, 
That  all  the  leaders  who  are  present  here 
Give  themselves  up  to  you,  without  condition ; 
Say,  will  you  then  —  then  will  you  show  yourself 
In  earnest,  and  with  some  decisive  action 
Try  your  fortune. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Get  but  the  signatures ! 

ILLO. 

Think  what  thou  dost,  thou  canst  not  execute 
The  emperor's  orders,  nor  reduce  thine  army, 
Nor  send  the  regiments  to  the  Spaniards'  aid, 


52  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Unless  thou  wouldst  resign  thy  power  for  ever. 
Think  on  the  other  hand  —  thou  canst  not  spurn 
The  emperor's  high  commands  and  solemn  orders, 
No  longer  temporise,  nor  seek  evasion, 
Wouldst  thou  avoid  a  rupture  with  the  court. 
Kesolve  then !     Wilt  thou  now  by  one  bold  act 
Anticipate  their  ends,  or,  doubting  still, 
Await  the  extremity  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

There's  time  before 
The  extremity  arrives. 

ILLO. 

Seize,  seize  the  hour, 
Ere  it  slips  from  you.     Seldom  comes  the  moment 
In  life,  which  is  indeed  sublime  and  weighty. 
To  make  a  great  decision  possible, 
0 !  many  things,  all  transient  and  all  rapid, 
Must  meet  at  once :  and,  haply,  they  thus  met 
May  by  that  confluence  be  enforced  to  pause 
Time  long-enough  for  wisdom,  though  too  short, 
Far,  far  too  short  a  time  for  doubt  and  scruple ! 
This  is  that  moment.     See,  our  army  chieftains, 
Our  best,  our  noblest,  are  assembled  round  you, 
Their  king-like  leader !     On  your  nod  they  wait. 
The  single  threads,  which  here  your  prosperous  fortune 
Hath  woven  together  in  one  potent  web 
Instinct  with  destiny,  0  !  let  them  not 
Unravel  of  themselves.     If  you  permit 
These  chiefs  to  separate,  so  unanimous 
Bring  you  them  not  a  second  time  together. 
'Tis  the  high  tide  that  heaves  the  stranded  ship, 
And  every  individual's  spirit  waxes 
In  the  great  stream  of  multitudes.     Behold 
They  are  still  here,  here  still !     But  soon  the  war 
Bursts  them  once  more  asunder,  and  in  small 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  53 

Particular  anxieties  and  interests 
Scatters  their  spirit,  and  the  sympathy 
Of  each  man  with  the  whole.     He  who  to-day 
Forgets  himself,  forced  onward  with  the  stream, 
Will  become  sober,  seeing  but  himself. 
Feel  only  his  own  weakness,  and  with  speed 
Will  face  about,  and  march  on  in  the  old 
High  road  of  duty,  the  old  broad-trodden  road, 
And  seek  but  to  make  shelter  in  good  plight. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  time  is  not  yet  coma 

TERZKY. 

So  you  say  always. 
But  when  will  it  be  time  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

When  I  shall  say  it. 

ILLO. 

You'll  wait  upon  the  stars,  and  on  their  hours, 
Till  the  earthly  hour  escapes  you.     Oh,  believe  me, 
In  your  own  bosom  are  your  destiny's  stars. 
Confidence  in  yourself,  prompt  resolution, 
This  is  your  Venus  !  and  the  sole  malignant, 
The  only  one  that  harmeth  you  is  doubt. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thou  speakest  as  thou  understandest.     How  oft 
And  many  a  time  I've  told  thee  Jupiter, 
That  lustrous  god,  was  setting  at  thy  birth. 
Thy  visual  power  subdues  no  mysteries ; 
Mole-eyed  thou  mayest  but  burrow  in  the  earth, 
Blind  as  the  subterrestrial,  who  with  wan 


54  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Lead-coloured  shine  lighted  thee  into  life. 
The  common,  the  terrestrial,  thou  mayest  see, 
With  serviceable  cunning  knit  together, 
The  nearest  with  the  nearest ;  and  therein 
I  trust  thee  and  believe  thee  !  but  whate'er 
Full  of  mysterious  import  Nature  weaves, 
And  fashions  in  the  depths  —  the  spirit's  ladder, 
That  from  tins  gross  and  visible  world  of  dust, 
Even  to  the  starry  world,  with  thousand  rounds, 
Builds  itself  up ;  on  which  the  unseen  powers 
Move  up  and  down  on  heavenly  ministries  — 
The  circles  in  the  circles,  that  approach 
The  central  sun  with  ever-narrowing  orbit  — 
These  see  the  glance  alone,  the  unsealed  eye, 
Of  Jupiter's  glad  children  born  in  lustre. 

\He  walks  across  the  chamber,  then  returns,  and 
standing  still,  proceeds. 
The  heavenly  constellations  make  not  merely 
The  day  and  nights,  summer  and  spring,  not  merely 
Signify  to  the  husbandman  the  seasons 
Of  sowing  and  of  harvest.     Human  action, 
That  is  the  seed,  too,  of  contingencies, 
Strewed  on  the  dark  land  of  futurity 
In  hopes  to  reconcile  the  powers  of  fate 
Whence  it  behoves  us  to  seek  out  the  seed-time, 
To  watch  the  stars,  select  then'  proper  hours, 
And  trace  with  searching  eye  the  heavenly  houses, 
Whether  the  enemy  of  growth  and  thriving 
Hide  himself  not,  malignant,  in  his  corner. 
Therefore  permit  me  my  own  time.     Meanwhile 
Do  you  your  part.     As  yet  I  cannot  say 
What  i"  shall  do  —  only,  give  way  I  will  not, 
Depose  me,  too,  they  shall  not.     On  these  points 
You  may  rely. 

page  (entering). 
My  lords,  the  generals. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  55 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Let  them  come  in. 

TERZKY. 

Shall  all  the  chiefs  be  present  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

'Twere  needless.     Both  the  Piccolomini, 
Maradas,  Butler,  Forgcetsch,  Deodati, 
Karaffa,  Isolani  —  these  may  come. 

[Terzky  goes  out  with  the  Page. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  ILLO). 

Hast  thou  taken  heed  that  Questenberg  was  watched  ? 
Had  he  no  means  of  secret  intercourse  ? 

ILLO. 

I  have  watched  him  closely  —  and  he  spoke  with  none 
But  with  Octavio. 

Scene  VII. 

Wallenstein,  Terzky,  Illo.  —  To  them  enter  Ques- 
tenberg, Octavio,  and  Max.  Piccolomini,  But- 
ler, Isolani,  Maradas,  and  three  other  Generals. 
Wallenstein  motions  Questenberg,  who  in  con- 
sequence takes  the  chair  directly  opposite  to  him ; 
the  others  follow,  arranging  themselves  according  to 
their  rank.      There  reigns  a  momentary  silence. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  have  understood, 
'Tis  true,  the  sum  and  import,  Questenberg, 
Of  your  instructions.     I  have  weighed  them  well, 
And  formed  my  final,  absolute  resolve; 


56  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Yet  it  seems  fitting  that  the  generals 
Should  hear  the  will  of  the  emperor  from  your  mouth. 
May  it  please  you  then  to  open  your  commission 
Before  these  noble  chieftains  ? 


QUESTENBERG. 

I  am  ready 
To  obey  you ;  but  will  first  entreat  your  highness, 
And  all  these  noble  chieftains,  to  consider, 
The  imperial  dignity  and  sovereign  right 
Speaks  from  my  mouth,  and  not  my  own  presumption. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

We  excuse  all  preface. 

QUESTENBERG. 

When  his  majesty 
The  emperor  to  his  courageous  armies 
Presented  in  the  person  of  Duke  Friedland 
A  most  experienced  and  renowned  commander, 
He  did  it  in  glad  hope  and  confidence 
To  give  thereby  to  the  fortune  of  the  war 
A  rapid  and  auspicious  change.     The  onset 
Was  favourable  to  his  royal  wishes. 
Bohemia  was  delivered  from  the  Saxons, 
The  Swede's  career  of  conquest  checked !     These  lands 
Began  to  draw  breath  freely,  as  Duke  Friedland 
From  all  the  streams  of  Germany  forced  hither 
The  scattered  armies  of  the  enemy ; 
Hither  invoked  as  round  one  magic  circle 
The  Ehinegrave,  Bernhard,  Banner,  Oxenstiern, 
Yea,  and  the  never-conquered  king  himself ; 
Here  finally,  before  the  eye  of  Niimberg, 
The  fearful  game  of  battle  to  decide. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  57 

WALLENSTEIN. 

To  the  point,  so  please  you. 

QUESTENBERG. 

A  new  spirit 
At  once  proclaimed  to  us  the  new  commander. 
No  longer  strove  blind  rage  with  rage  more  blind ; 
But  in  the  enlightened  field  of  skill  was  shown 
How  fortitude  can  triumph  over  boldness, 
And  scientific  art  outweary  courage. 
In  vain  they  tempt  him  to  the  fight,  he  only 
Entrenches  him  still  deeper  in  his  hold, 
As  if  to  build  an  everlasting  fortress. 
At  length  grown  desperate,  now,  the  king  resolves 
To  storm  the  camp  and  lead  his  wasted  legions, 
Who  daily  fall  by  famine  and  by  plague, 
To  quicker  deaths  and  hunger  and  disease. 
Through  lines  of  barricades  behind  whose  fence 
Death  lurks  within  a  thousand  mouths  of  fire, 
He  yet  unconquered  strives  to  storm  his  way. 
There  was  attack,  and  there  resistance,  such 
As  mortal  eye  had  never  seen  before ; 
Eepulsed  at  last,  the  king  withdrew  his  troops 
From  this  so  murderous  field,  and  not  a  foot 
Of  ground  was  gained  by  all  that  fearful  slaughter. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Pray  spare  us  these  recitals  from  gazettes, 
Which  we  ourselves  beheld  with  deepest  horror. 

QUESTENBERG. 

In  Niirnberg's  camp  the  Swedish  monarch  left 
His  fame  —  in  Liitzen's  plains  his  life.     But  who 
Stood  not  astounded,  when  victorious  Friedland 
After  this  day  of  triumph,  this  proud  day, 


58  THE    PICCOLOMINl 

Marched  toward  Bohemia  with  the  speed  of  flight, 

And  vanished  from  the  theatre  of  war  ? 

While  the  young  Weimar  hero  1  forced  his  way 

Into  Franconia,  to  the  Danube,  like 

Some  delving  winter-stream,  which,  where  it  rushes, 

Makes  its  own  channel ;  with  such  sudden  speed 

He  marched,  and  now  at  once  'fore  Regensburg 

Stood  to  the  affright  of  all  good  Catholic  Christians. 

Then  did  Bavaria's  well-deserving  prince 

Entreat  swift  aidance  in  his  extreme  need ; 

The  emperor  sends  seven  horsemen  to  Duke  Friedland, 

Seven  horsemen  couriers  sends  he  with  the  entreaty : 

He  superadds  his  own,  and  supplicates 

Where  as  the  sovereign  lord  he  can  command. 

In  vain  his  supplication  !     At  this  moment 

The  duke  hears  only  his  old  hate  and  grudge, 

Barters  the  general  good  to  gratify 

Private  revenge  —  and  so  falls  Eegensburg. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Max.,  to  what  period  of  the  war  alludes  he  ? 
My  recollection  fails  me  here. 


MAX. 

He  means 


When  we  were  in  Silesia. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Ay  !  is  it  so  ! 
But  what  had  we  to  do  there  ? 

MAX. 

To  beat  out 
The  Swedes  and  Saxons  from  the  province. 

1  Bernhard    of    Saxe  -  Weimar,    who  succeeded    Gustavus    in 
command. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  59 

WALLENSTEIN. 

True; 
In  that  description  which  the  minister  gave, 
I  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  whole  war. 

[To  QUESTENBERG. 
Well,  but  proceed  a  little. 

QUESTENBERG. 

We  hoped  upon  the  Oder  to  regain 

What  on  the  Danube  shamefully  was  lost. 

We  looked  for  deeds  of  all-astounding  grandeur 

Upon  a  theatre  of  war,  on  which 

A  Friedland  led  in  person  to  the  field, 

And  the  famed  rival  of  the  great  Gustavus 

Had  but  a  Thurn  and  Arnheim  to  oppose  him ! 

Yet  the  encounter  of  their  mighty  hosts 

Served  but  to  feast  and  entertain  each  other. 

Our  country  groaned  beneath  the  woes  of  war, 

Yet  naught  but  peace  prevailed  in  Friedland's  camp ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Full  many  a  bloody  strife  is  fought  in  vain, 
Because  its  youthful  general  needs  a  victory. 
But  'tis  the  privilege  of  the  old  commander 
To  spare  the  costs  of  fighting  useless  battles 
Merely  to  show  that  he  knows  how  to  conquer. 
It  would  have  little  helped  my  fame  to  boast 
Of  conquest  o'er  an  Arnheim  ;  but  far  more 
Would  my  forbearance  have  availed  my  country, 
Had  I  succeeded  to  dissolve  the  alliance 
Existing  'twixt  the  Saxon  and  the  Swede. 

QUESTENBERG, 

But  you  did  not  succeed,  and  so  commenced 
The  fearful  strife  anew.     And  here  at  length, 
Beside  the  river  Oder  did  the  duke 


60  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Assert  liis  ancient  fame.     Upon  the  fields 

Of  Steinau  did  the  Swedes  lay  down  their  arms, 

Subdued  without  a  blow.     And  here,  with  others, 

The  righteousness  of  heaven  to  his  avenger 

Delivered  that  long-practised  stirrer-up 

Of  insurrection,  that  curse-laden  torch 

And  kindler  of  this  war,  Matthias  Thurn. 

But  he  had  fallen  into  magnanimous  hands, 

Instead  of  punishment  he  found  reward, 

And  with  rich  presents  did  the  duke  dismiss 

The  arch-foe  of  his  emperor. 

WALLENSTEIN  (laughs). 

I  know, 
I  know  you  had  already  in  Vienna 
Your  windows  and  your  balconies  forestalled 
To  see  him  on  the  executioner's  cart. 
I  might  have  lost  the  battle,  lost  it  too 
With  infamy,  and  still  retained  your  graces  — 
But,  to  have  cheated  them  of  a  spectacle, 
Oh !  that  the  good  folks  of  Vienna  never, 
No,  never  can  forgive  me ! 

QUESTENBEKG. 

So  Silesia 
Was  freed,  and  all  things  loudly  called  the  duke 
Into  Bavaria,  now  pressed  hard  on  all  sides. 
And  he  did  put  his  troops  in  motion :  slowly, 
Quite  at  his  ease,  and  by  the  longest  road 
He  traverses  Bohemia ;  but  ere  ever 
He  hath  once  seen  the  enemy,  faces  round, 
Breaks  up  the  march,  and  takes  to  winter-quarters. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  troops  were  pitiably  destitute 
Of  every  necessary,  every  comfort, 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  61 

The  winter  came.     What  thinks  his  majesty 

His  troops  are  made  of  ?     Aren't  we  men  ;  subjected 

Like  other  men  to  wet,  and  cold,  and  all 

The  circumstances  of  necessity  ? 

Oh,  miserable  lot  of  the  poor  soldier  ! 

Wherever  he  comes  in  all  flee  before  him, 

And  when  he  goes  away  the  general  curse 

Follows  him  on  his  route.     All  must  be  seized. 

Nothing  is  given  him.     And  compelled  to  seize 

From  every  man  he's  every  man's  abhorrence. 

Behold,  here  stand  my  generals.     Karaffa  ! 

Count  Deodati !     Butler  !     Tell  this  man 

How  long  the  soldier's  pay  is  in  the  arrears. 

BUTLEK. 

Already  a  full  year. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  'tis  the  hire 
That  constitutes  the  hireling's  name  and  duties, 
The  soldier's  pay  is  the  soldier's  covenant.1 

QUESTENBERG. 

Ah !  this  is  a  far  other  tone  from  that 

In  which  the  duke  spoke  eight,  nine  years  ago. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Yes !  'tis  my  fault,  I  know  it :  I  myself 
Have  spoilt  the  emperor  by  indulging  him. 

1  The  original  is  not  translatable  into  English  : 

Und  sein  Sold 
Muss  dem  Soldaten  werden,  darnach  heisst  er. 

It  might  perhaps  have  been  thus  rendered  : 

And  that  for  which  he  sold  his  services, 
The  soldier  must  receive,  — 

but  a  false  or  doubtful  etymology  is  no  more  than  a  dull  pun. 


62  THE   PICCOLOMINI 

Nine  years  ago,  during  the  Danish  war, 
I  raised  him  up  a  force,  a  mighty  force, 
Forty  or  fifty  thousand  men,  that  cost  him 
Of  his  own  purse  no  doit.     Through  Saxony 
The  fury  goddess  of  the  war  marched  on, 
E'en  to  the  surf-rocks  of  the  Baltic,  bearing 
The  terrors  of  Ms  name.     That  was  a  time  ! 
In  the  whole  imperial  realm  no  name  like  mine 
Honoured  with  festival  and  celebration  — 
And  Albrecht  Wallenstein,  it  was  the  title 
Of  the  third  jewel  in  his  crown ! 
But  at  the  Diet,  when  the  princes  met 
At  Regensburg,  there,  there  the  whole  broke  out, 
There  'twas  laid  open,  there  it  was  made  known 
Out  of  what  money-bag  I  had  paid  the  host, 
And  what  were  now  my  thanks,  what  had  I  now 
That  I,  a  faithful  servant  of  the  sovereign, 
Had  loaded  on  myself  the  people's  curses, 
And  let  the  princes  of  the  empire  pay 
The  expenses  of  this  war  that  aggrandises 
The  emperor  alone.     What  thanks  had  I  ? 
What  ?     I  was  offered  up  to  their  complaint, 
Dismissed,  degraded ! 

QUESTENBEKG. 

But  your  highness  knows 
What  little  freedom  he  possessed  of  action 
In  that  disastrous  Diet. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Death  and  hell ! 
I  had  that  which  could  have  procured  him  freedom. 
No !  since  'twas  proved  so  inauspicious  to  me 
To  serve  the  emperor  at  the  empire's  cost, 
I  have  been  taught  far  other  trains  of  thinking 
Of  the  empire  and  the  Diet  of  the  empire. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  63 

From  the  emperor,  doubtless,  I  received  this  staff, 
But  now  I  hold  it  as  the  empire's  general,  — 
For  the  common  weal,  the  universal  interest, 
And  no  more  for  that  one  man's  aggrandisement ! 
But  to  the  point.     What  is  it  that's  desired  of  me  ? 

QUESTENBERG. 

First,  his  imperial  majesty  hath  willed 
That  without  pretexts  of  delay  the  army 
Evacuate  Bohemia. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

In  this  season  ? 
And  to  what  quarter  wills  the  emperor 
That  we  direct  our  course  ? 

QUESTENBERG. 

To  the  enemy. 
His  majesty  resolves,  that  Eegensburg 
Be  purified  from  the  enemy  ere  Easter, 
That  Lutheranism  may  be  no  longer  preached 
In  that  cathedral,  nor  heretical 
Defilement  desecrate  the  celebration 
Of  that  pure  festival. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

My  generals, 
Can  this  be  realised  ? 

ILLO. 

'Tis  not  possible. 

BUTLER. 

It  can't  be  realised. 


64  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

QUESTENBERG. 

The  emperor 
Already  hath  commanded  Colonel  Suys 
To  advance  towards  Bavaria. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  did  Suys  ? 

QUESTENBERG. 

That  which  his  duty  prompted.     He  advanced. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What !  he  advanced  ?     And  I,  his  general, 
Had  given  him  orders,  peremptory  orders, 
Not  to  desert  his  station  !     Stands  it  thus 
With  my  authority  ?     Is  this  the  obedience 
Due  to  my  office,  which  being  thrown  aside, 
No  war  can  be  conducted  ?     Chieftains,  speak : 
You  be  the  judges,  generals  !     What  deserves 
That  officer  who,  of  his  oath  neglectful, 
Is  guilty  of  contempt  of  orders  ? 

ILLO. 

Death. 

WALLENSTEIN  (raising  his  voice,  as  all  hut   ILLO  had 
remained  silent  and  seemingly  scrupulous). 

Count  Piccolomini !  what  has  he  deserved  ? 

max.  piccolomini  (after  a  long  pause). 

According  to  the  letter  of  the  law, 
Death. 

isolani. 

Death. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  65 

BUTLER. 

Death,  by  the  laws  of  war. 
[Questenberg  rises  from  his  seat,  Wallenstein 
follows,  all  the  rest  rise. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

To  this  the  law  condemns  him,  and  not  I. 
And  if  I  show  him  favour,  'twill  arise 
From  the  reverence  that  I  owe  my  emperor. 

QUESTENBERG. 

If  so,  I  can  say  nothing  further  —  here  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  accepted  the  command  but  on  conditions ! 

And  this  the  first,  that  to  the  diminution 

Of  my  authority  no  human  being, 

Not  even  the  emperor's  self,  should  be  entitled 

To  do  aught,  or  to  say  aught,  with  the  army. 

If  I  stand  warranter  of  the  event, 

Placing  my  honour  and  my  head  in  pledge, 

Needs  must  I  have  full  mastery  in  all 

The  means  thereto.     What  rendered  this  Gustavus 

Resistless,  and  unconquered  upon  earth  ? 

This  —  that  he  was  the  monarch  in  his  army  ! 

A  monarch,  one  who  is  indeed  a  monarch, 

Was  never  yet  subdued  but  by  his  equal. 

But  to  the  point !     The  best  is  yet  to  come. 

Attend  now,  generals  ! 

QUESTENBERG. 

The  Prince  Cardinal 
Begins  his  route  at  the  approach  of  spring 
From  the  Milanese ;  and  leads  a  Spanish  army 
Through  Germany  into  the  Netherlands. 


66  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

That  he  may  march  secure  and  unimpeded, 

Tis  the  emperor's  will  you  grant  him  a  detachment 

Of  eight  horse-regiments  from  the  army  here. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Yes,  yes !  I  understand  !     Eight  regiments  !     Well, 
Right  well  concerted,  Father  Lanormain ! 
Eight  thousand  horse  !     Yes,  yes  !  'tis  as  it  should  be  ! 
I  see  it  coming. 

QUESTENBERG. 

There  is  nothing  coming. 
All  stands  in  front :  the  counsel  of  state-prudence, 
The  dictate  of  necessity  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  then  ? 
What,  my  lord  envoy  ?     May  I  not  be  suffered 
To  understand  that  folks  are  tired  of  seeing 
The  sword's  hilt  in  my  grasp,  and  that  your  court 
Snatch  eagerly  at  this  pretence,  and  use 
The  Spanish  title,  and  drain  off  my  forces, 
To  lead  into  the  empire  a  new  army 
Unsubjected  to  my  control  ?     To  throw  me 
Plumply  aside,  —  I  am  still  too  powerful  for  you 
To  venture  that.     My  stipulation  runs, 
That  all  the  imperial  forces  shall  obey  me 
Where'er  the  German  is  the  native  language. 
Of  Spanish  troops  and  of  prince  cardinals, 
That  take  their  route  as  visitors,  through  the  empire, 
There  stands  no  syllable  in  my  stipulation. 
No  syllable  !     And  so  the  politic  court 
Steals  in  on  tiptoe,  and  creeps  round  behind  it ; 
First  makes  me  weaker,  then  to  be  dispensed  with, 
Till  it  dares  strike  at  length  a  bolder  blow, 
And  make  short  work  with  me. 
What  need  of  all  these  crooked  ways,  lord  envoy  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  67 

Straightforward,  man  !  his  compact  with  me  pinches 
The  emperor.     He  would  that  I  moved  off ! 
Well !     I  will  gratify  him. 

[Here  there  commences  an  agitation  among  the  gen- 
erals, which  increases  continually. 
It  grieves  me  for  my  noble  officers'  sakes ; 
I  see  not  yet  by  what  means  they  will  come  at 
The  moneys  they  have  advanced,  or  how  obtain 
The  recompense  their  services  demand. 
Still  a  new  leader  brings  new  claimants  forward, 
And  prior  merit  superannuates  quickly. 
There  serve  here  many  foreigners  in  the  army, 
And  were  the  man  in  all  else  brave  and  gallant, 
I  was  not  wont  to  make  nice  scrutiny 
After  his  pedigree  or  catechism. 
This  will  be  otherwise  i'  the  time  to  come. 
Well ;  me  no  longer  it  concerns.  [He  seats  himself. 

MAX.  PICCOLOMINI. 

Forbid  it,  Heaven,  that  it  should  come  to  this ! 
Our  troops  will  swell  in  dreadful  fermentation  — 
The  emperor  is  abused  —  it  cannot  be. 

ISOLANI. 

It  cannot  be ;  all  goes  to  instant  wreck. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thou  hast  said  truly,  faithful  Isolani ! 
What  we  with  toil  and  foresight  have  built  up 
Will  go  to  wreck  —  all  go  to  instant  wreck. 
What  then  ?     Another  chieftain  is  soon  found, 
Another  army  likewise  (who  dares  doubt  it  ?) 
Will  flock  from  all  sides  to  the  emperor, 
At  the  first  beat  of  his  recruiting  drum. 

[During  this  speech,  Isolani,  Terzky,  Illo,  and 
Maradas  talk  confusedly  with  great  agitation. 


68  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

max.  piccolomini  (busily  and  passionately  going  from 
one  to  another,  and  soothing  them). 

Hear,  my  commander  !     Hear  me,  generals  ! 

Let  me  conjure  you,  duke !     Determine  nothing, 

Till  we  have  met  and  represented  to  you 

Our  joint  remonstrances  !     Nay,  calmer  !     Friends  ! 

I  hope  all  may  yet  be  set  right  again. 

TERZKY. 

Away  !  let  us  away  !  in  the  antechamber 

Find  we  the  others.  \Tliey  go. 

BUTLER  (to  QUESTENBERG). 

If  good  counsel  gain 
Due  audience  from  your  wisdom,  my  lord  envoy, 
You  will  be  cautious  how  you  show  yourself 
In  public  for  some  hours  to  come  —  or  hardly 
Will  that  gold  key  protect  you  from  maltreatmen 

[Commotions  heard  from  without. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

A  salutary  counsel  —  Thou,  Octavio  ! 
Wilt  answer  for  the  safety  of  our  guest. 
Farewell,  Von  Questenberg  ! 

[Questenberg  is  about  to  speak. 
Nay,  not  a  word. 
Not  one  word  more  of  that  detested  subject ! 
You  have  performed  your  duty.     We  know  now 
To  separate  the  office  from  the  man. 

[As  Questenberg  is  going  off  with  Octavio, 
Goetz,  Tiefenbach,  Kolatto,  press  in,  sev- 
eral other  generals  following  them. 

GOETZ. 

Where' s  he  who  means  to  rob  us  of  our  general  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMIN1  69 

tiefenbach  (at  the  same  time). 
What  are  we  forced  to  hear  ?     That  thou  wilt  leave  us  ? 

kolatto  (at  the  same  time). 
We  will  live  with  thee,  we  will  die  with  thee. 

WALLENSTEIN  (with  stateliness,  and  pointing  to  ILLO). 

There  !  the  field-marshal  knows  our  will.  \Exit. 

[  While  all  are  going  off  the  stage,  the  curtain  drops. 

ACT   III. 

Scene  I.     A  Small  Chamber. 
Illo  and  Teezky. 

terzky. 

Now  for  this  evening's  business  !     How  intend  you 
To  manage  with  the  generals  at  the  banquet  ? 

ILLO. 

Attend  !     We  frame  a  formal  declaration, 

Wherein  we  to  the  duke  consign  ourselves 

Collectively,  to  be  and  to  remain 

His,  both  with  life  and  limb,  and  not  to  spare 

The  last  drop  of  our  blood  for  him,  provided, 

So  doing  we  infringe  no  oath  or  duty 

We  may  be  under  to  the  emperor.     Mark ! 

This  reservation  we  expressly  make 

In  a  particular  clause,  and  save  the  conscience. 

Now  hear !  this  formula  so  framed  and  worded 

Will  be  presented  to  them  for  perusal 

Before  the  banquet.     No  one  will  find  in  it 

Cause  of  offence  or  scruple.     Hear  now  further ! 

After  the  feast,  when  now  the  vapouring  wine 


70  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Opens  the  heart,  and  shuts  the  eyes,  we  let 
A  counterfeited  paper,  in  the  which 
This  one  particular  clause  has  been  left  out, 
Go  round  for  signatures. 

TERZKY. 

How  !  think  you  then 
That  they'll  believe  themselves  bound  by  an  oath, 
Which  we  have  tricked  them  into  by  a  juggle  ? 

ILLO. 

We  shall  have  caught  and  caged  them  !    Let  them  then 
Beat  their  wings  bare  against  the  wires,  and  rave 
Loud  as  they  may  against  our  treachery ; 
At  court  their  signatures  will  be  believed 
Far  more  than  their  most  holy  affirmations. 
Traitors  they  are,  and  must  be ;  therefore  wisely 
Will  make  a  virtue  of  necessity. 

TERZKY. 

Well,  well,  it  shall  content  me :  let  but  something 
Be  done,  let  only  some  decisive  blow 
Set  us  in  motion. 

ILLO. 

Besides,  'tis  of  subordinate  importance 
How,  or  how  far,  we  may  thereby  propel 
The  generals.     'Tis  enough  that  we  persuade 
The  duke  that  they  are  his.     Let  him  but  act 
In  his  determined  mood,  as  if  he  had  them, 
And  he  will  have  them.     Where  he  plunges  in, 
He  makes  a  whirlpool,  and  all  stream  down  to  it. 

TERZKY. 

His  policy  is  such  a  labyrinth, 

That  many  a  time  when  I  have  thought  myself 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  71 


Close  at  his  side,  he's  gone  at  once,  and  left  me 
Ignorant  of  the  ground  where  I  was  standing. 
He  lends  the  enemy  his  ear,  permits  me 
To  write  to  them,  to  Arnheim  ;  to  Sesina 
Himself  comes  forward  blank  and  undisguised  ; 
Talks  with  us  by  the  hour  about  his  plans, 
And  when  I  think  I  have  him  —  off  at  once  — 
He  has  slipped  from  me,  and  appears  as  if 
He  had  no  scheme,  but  to  retain  his  place. 

ILLO. 

He  give  up  his  old  plans !  I'll  tell  you,  friend ! 

His  soul  is  occupied  with  nothing  else, 

Even  in  his  sleep  —  they  are  his  thoughts,  his  dreams, 

That  day  by  day  he  questions  for  this  purpose 

The  motions  of  the  planets  — 

TERZKY. 

Ah !  you  know 
This  night,  that  is  now  coming,  he  with  Seni 
Shuts  himself  up  in  the  astrological  tower 
To  make  joint  observations  —  for  I  hear 
It  is  to  be  a  night  of  weight  and  crisis ; 
And  something  great,  and  of  long  expectation, 
Takes  place  in  heaven. 

ILLO. 

0  that  it  might  take  place 
On  earth !     The  generals  are  full  of  zeal, 
And  would  with  ease  be  led  to  anything 
Rather  than  lose  their  chief.     Observe,  too,  that 
We  have  at  last  a  fair  excuse  before  us 
To  form  a  close  alliance  'gainst  the  court, 
Yet  innocent  its  title,  bearing  simply 
That  we  support  him  only  in  command. 


72  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

But  in  the  ardour  of  pursuit  thou  knowest 

Men  soon  forget  the  goal  from  which  they  started. 

The  object  I've  in  view  is  that  the  prince 

Shall  either  find  them,  or  believe  them  ready 

For  every  hazard.     Opportunity 

Will  tempt  him  on.     Be  the  great  step  once  taken, 

Which  at  Vienna's  court  can  ne'er  be  pardoned, 

The  force  of  circumstances  will  lead  him  onward 

The  farther  still  and  farther.     'Tis  the  choice 

That  makes  him  undecisive  —  come  but  need, 

And  all  his  powers  and  wisdom  will  come  with  it. 

TEEZKY. 

'Tis  this  alone  the  enemy  awaits 

To  change  their  chief  and  join  their  force  with  ours. 

ILLO. 

Come !  be  we  bold  and  make  despatch.     The  work 
In  this  next  day  or  two  must  thrive  and  grow 
More  than  it  has  for  years.     And  let  but  only 
Things  first  turn  up  auspicious  here  below  — 
Mark  what   I   say  —  the  right   stars,  too,  will  show 

themselves. 
Come  to  the  generals.     All  is  in  the  glow, 
And  must  be  beaten  while  'tis  malleable. 

TEKZKY. 

Do  you  go  thither,  Tllo  ?     I  must  stay 
And  wait  here  for  the  Countess  Terzky.     Know 
That  we,  too,  are  not  idle.     Break  one  string, 
A  second  is  in  readiness. 

ILLO. 

Yes !  yes ! 
I  saw  your  lady  smile  with  such  sly  meaning. 
What's  in  the  wind  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  73 

TERZKY. 

A  secret.     Hush !  she  comes. 

[Exit  Illo. 

Scene  II. 

The  Countess  steps  out  from  a  closet. 

Count  and  Countess  Terzky. 

terzky. 

Well  —  is  she  coming  ?     I  can  keep  him  back 
No  longer. 

countess. 

She  will  be  here  instantly, 
You  only  send  him. 

terzky. 

I  am  not  quite  certain, 
I  must  confess  it,  countess,  whether  or  not 
We  are  earning  the  duke's  thanks  hereby.     You  know 
No  ray  has  broke  out  from  him  on  this  point. 
You  have  o'erruled  me,  and  yourself  know  best 
How  far  you  dare  proceed. 

COUNTESS. 

I  take  it  on  me. 
[Talking  to  herself  while  she  is  advancing. 
Here's  no  heed  of  full  powers  and  commissions ; 
My  cloudy  duke !  we  understand  each  other  — 
And  without  words.     What  could  I  not  unriddle, 
Wherefore  the  daughter  should  be  sent  for  hither, 
Why  first  he,  and  no  other  should  be  chosen 
To  fetch  her  hither  ?     This  sham  of  betrothing  her 


74  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

To  a  bridegroom, 1  whom  no  one  knows  —  No  !  no  ! 
This  may  blind  others  !     I  see  through  thee,  brother ! 
But  it  beseems  thee  not  to  draw  a  card 
At  such  a  game.     Not  yet !     It  all  remains 
Mutely  delivered  up  to  my  finessing. 
Well  —  thou  shalt  not  have  been  deceived,  Duke  Fried- 
land, 
In  her  who  is  thy  sister. 

SERVANT  (enters). 

The  commanders!  \Exit. 

TERZKY  (to  the  COUNTESS). 

Take  care  you  heat  his  fancy  and  affections  — 
Possess  him  with  a  reverie,  and  send  him 
Absent  and  dreaming  to  the  banquet ;  that 
He  may  not  boggle  at  the  signature. 

COUNTESS. 

Take  care  of  your  guests  !     Go,  send  him  hither. 

TERZKY. 

All  rests  upon  his  undersigning. 

COUNTESS  (interrupting  him). 
Go  to  your  guests  !     Go  — 

ILLO  (comes  hack). 

Where  art  staying,  Terzky  ? 
The  house  is  full,  and  all  expecting  you. 

1  In  Germany,  after  honourable  addresses  have  been  paid  and 
formally  accepted,  the  lovers  are  called  bride  and  bridegroom, 
even  though  the  marriage  should  not  take  place  till  years  after- 
ward. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  75 


TERZKY. 


Instantly !  instantly  !  [To  the  Countess. 

And  let  him  not 
Stay  here  too  long.     It  might  awake  suspicion 
In  the  old  man  — 


COUNTESS. 


A  truce  with  your  precautions  ! 

[Exeunt  Terzky  and  Illo. 


Scene  III. 
Countess,  Max.  Piccolominl 

MAX.  (peeping  in  on  the  stage  slyly). 

Aunt  Terzky  !  may  I  venture  ? 

[Advances  to  the  middle  of  the  stage,  and  looks 
around  him  with  uneasiness. 

She's  not  here ! 
Where  is  she  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Look  but  somewhat  narrowly 
In  yonder  corner,  lest  perhaps  she  he 
Concealed  behind  that  screen. 

MAX. 

There  lie  her  gloves  ! 
[Snatches  at  them,  but  the  Countess  takes  them  herself. 
You  unkind  lady  !     You  refuse  me  this, 
You  make  it  an  amusement  to  torment  me. 

countess. 
And  this  the  thanks  you  give  me  for  my  trouble  ? 


76  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

MAX. 

0,  if  you  felt  the  oppression  at  my  heart ! 
Since  we've  been  here,  so  to  constrain  myself 
With  such  poor  stealth  to  hazard  words  and  glances, 
These,  these  are  not  my  habits  ! 

COUNTESS. 

You  have  still 
Many  new  habits  to  acquire,  young  friend ! 
But  on  this  proof  of  your  obedient  temper 
I  must  continue  to  insist ;  and  only 
On  this  condition  can  I  play  the  agent 
For  your  concerns. 

MAX. 

But  wherefore  comes  she  not  ? 
Where  is  she  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Into  my  hands  you  must  place  it 
Whole  and  entire.     Whom  could  you  find,  indeed, 
More  zealously  affected  to  your  interest  ? 
No  soul  on  earth  must  know  it  —  not  your  father ; 
He  must  not,  above  all. 

MAX. 

Alas  !  what  danger  ? 
Here  is  no  face  on  which  I  might  concentre 
All  the  enraptured  soul  stirs  up  within  me. 

0  lady  !  tell  me,  is  all  changed  around  me  ? 
Or  is  it  only  I  ? 

I  find  myself, 
As  among  strangers !     Not  a  trace  is  left 
Of  all  my  former  wishes,  former  joys. 
Where  has  it  vanished  to  ?     There  was  a  time 
When  even,  methought,  with  such  a  world  as  this, 

1  was  not  discontented.     Now  how  flat ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  77 

How  stale  !     No  life,  no  bloom,  no  flavour  in  it ! 

My  comrades  are  intolerable  to  me. 

My  father  —  even  to  him  I  can  say  nothing. 

My  arms,  my  military  duties  —  0  ! 

They  are  such  wearying  toys  ! 

COUNTESS. 

But,  gentle  friend ! 
I  must  entreat  it  of  your  condescension, 
You  would  be  pleased  to  sink  your  eye,  and  favour 
With  one  short  glance  or  two  this  poor  stale  world, 
Where  even  now  much,  and  of  much  moment, 
Is  on  the  eve  of  its  completion. 

MAX. 

Something, 
I  can't  but  know  is  going  forward  round  me. 
I  see  it  gathering,  crowding,  driving  on, 
In  wild  uncustomary  movements.     Well, 
In  due  time,  doubtless,  it  will  reach  even  me. 
Where  think  you  I  have  been,  dear  lady  ?     Nay, 
No  raillery.     The  turmoil  of  the  camp, 
The  spring-tide  of  acquaintance  rolling  in, 
The  pointless  jest,  the  empty  conversation, 
Oppressed  and  stifled  me.     I  gasped  for  air  — 
I  could  not  breathe  —  I  was  constrained  to  fly, 
To  seek  a  silence  out  for  my  full  heart ; 
And  a  pure  spot  wherein  to  feel  my  happiness. 
No  smiling,  countess !     In  the  church  was  I. 
There  is  a  cloister  here  "  To  the  heaven's  gate,"  * 
Thither  I  went,  there  found  myself  alone. 
Over  the  altar  hung  a  holy  mother ; 

1 1  am  doubtful  whether  this  be  the  dedication  of  the  cloister, 
or  the  name  of  one  of  the  city  gates,  near  which  it  stood.  I  have 
translated  it  in  the  former  sense  ;  but  fearful  of  having  made  some 
blunder,  I  add  the  original,  —  Es  ist  ein  Kloster  hier  zur  Him- 
melspforte. 


78  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

A  wretched  painting  'twas,  yet  'twas  the  friend 
That  I  was  seeking  in  this  moment.     Ah, 
How  oft  have  I  beheld  that  glorious  form 
In  splendour,  'mid  ecstatic  worshippers  ; 
Yet,  still  it  moved  me  not !  and  now  at  once 
Was  my  devotion  cloudless  as  my  love. 

COUNTESS. 

Enjoy  your  fortune  and  felicity  ! 

Forget  the  world  around  you.     Meantime,  friendship 

Shall  keep  strict  vigils  for  you,  anxious,  active. 

Only  be  manageable  when  that  friendship 

Points  you  the  road  to  full  accomplishment. 

MAX. 

But  where  abides  she  then  ?     Oh,  golden  time 
Of  travel,  when  each  morning  sun  united 
And  but  the  coming  night  divided  us ; 
Then  ran  no  sand,  then  struck  no  hour  for  us, 
And  time,  in  our  excess  of  happiness, 
Seemed  on  its  course  eternal  to  stand  still. 
Oh,  he  hath  fallen  from  out  his  heaven  of  bliss 
Who  can  descend  to  count  the  changing  hours, 
No  clock  strikes  ever  for  the  happy ! 

COUNTESS. 

How  long  is  it  since  you  declared  your  passion  ? 

MAX. 

This  morning  did  I  hazard  the  first  word. 


COUNTESS. 

This  morning  the  first  time  in  twenty  days  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  79 

MAX. 

'Twas  at  that  hunting-castle,  betwixt  here 

And  Nepomuck,  where  you  had  joined  us,  and  — 

That  was  the  last  relay  of  the  whole  journey ; 

In  a  balcony  we  were  standing  mute, 

And  gazing  out  upon  the  dreary  field : 

Before  us  the  dragoons  were  riding  onward, 

The  safeguard  which  the  duke  had  sent  us  —  heavy ; 

The  inquietude  of  parting  lay  upon  me, 

And  trembling  ventured  I  at  length  these  words : 

This  all  reminds  me,  noble  maiden,  that 

To-day  I  must  take  leave  of  my  good  fortune. 

A  few  hours  more,  and  you  will  find  a  father, 

Will  see  yourself  surrounded  by  new  friends, 

And  I  henceforth  shall  be  but  as  a  stranger, 

Lost  in  the  many  —  "  Speak  with  my  Aunt  Terzky ! " 

With  hurrying  voice  she  interrupted  me. 

She  faltered.     I  beheld  a  glowing  red 

Possess  her  beautiful  cheeks,  and  from  the  ground 

Eaised  slowly  up  her  eye  met  mine  —  no  longer 

Did  I  control  myself. 

[The  Princess  Thekla   appears  at  the  door,  and 

remains  standing,  observed  by  the  Countess, 

but  not  by  Piccolomini. 

With  instant  boldness 
I  caught  her  in  my  arms,  my  lips  touched  hers ; 
There  was  a  rustling  in  the  room  close  by ; 
It  parted  us  —  'Twas  you.     What  since  has  happened 
You  know. 

COUNTESS  (after  a  pause,  with  a  stolen  glance  at  THEKLA ). 

And  is  it  your  excess  of  modesty 
Or  are  you  so  incurious,  that  you  do  not 
Ask  me  too  of  my  secret  ? 

MAX. 

Of  your  secret  ? 


/ 


8o  THE    PICCOLOMINI 


COUNTESS. 


Why,  yes !     When  in  the  instant  after  you 
I  stepped  into  the  room,  and  found  my  niece  there ; 
What  she  in  this  first  moment  of  the  heart 
Taken  with  surprise  — 

max.  (with  eagerness). 
Well? 


Scene  IV. 

Thekla  (hurries  forward),  Countess,  Max.  Piccolo- 
mini. 

THEKLA  (to  the  COUNTESS). 

Spare  yourself  the  trouble  : 
That  hears  he  better  from  myself. 

MAX.  (stepping  backward). 

My  princess ! 
What  have  you  let  her  hear  me  say,  Aunt  Terzky  ? 

THEKLA  (to  the  COUNTESS). 

Has  he  been  here  long  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Yes  ;  and  soon  must  go. 
Where  have  you  stayed  so  long  ? 

THEKLA. 

Alas !  my  mother 
Wept  so  again  !  and  I  —  I  see  her  suffer, 
Yet  cannot  keep  myself  from  being  happy. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  81 


MAX. 


Now  once  again  I  have  courage  to  look  on  you. 
To-day  at  noon  I  could  not. 
The  dazzle  of  the  jewels  that  played  round  you 
Hid  the  beloved  from  me. 


THEKLA. 

Then  you  saw  me 
With  your  eye  only  —  and  not  with  your  heart  ? 

MAX. 

This  morning,  when  I  found  you  in  the  circle 

Of  all  your  kindred,  in  your  father's  arms, 

Beheld  myself  an  alien  in  this  circle, 

O !  what  an  impulse  felt  I  in  that  moment 

To  fall  upon  his  neck,  to  call  him  father  ! 

But  his  stern  eye  o'erpowered  the  swelling  passion, 

It  dared  not  but  be  silent.     And  those  brilliants, 

That  like  a  crown  of  stars  en  wreathed  your  brows, 

They  scared  me  too  !    0  wherefore,  wherefore  should  he 

At  the  first  meeting  spread  as  'twere  the  ban 

Of  excommunication  round  you,  —  wherefore 

Dress  up  the  angel  as  for  sacrifice, 

And  cast  upon  the  light  and  joyous  heart 

The  mournful  burden  of  his  station  ?     Fitly 

May  love  dare  woo  for  love ;  but  such  a  splendour 

Might  none  but  monarchs  venture  to  approach. 

THEKLA. 

Hush !  not  a  word  more  of  this  mummery ; 
You  see  how  soon  the  burden  is  thrown  off. 

[To  the  Countess. 
He  is  not  in  spirits.     Wherefore  is  he  not  ? 
'Tis  you,  aunt,  that  have  made  him  all  so  gloomy ! 
He  had  cprite  another  nature  on  the  journey  — 


82  THE    PICCOLOM1NI 

So  calm,  so  bright,  so  joyous  eloquent.  [To  Max. 

It  was  my  wish  to  see  you  always  so, 
And  never  otherwise ! 

MAX. 

You  find  yourself 
In  your  great  father's  arms,  beloved  lady ! 
All  in  a  new  world,  which  does  homage  to  you, 
And  which,  were't  only  by  its  novelty, 
Delights  your  eye. 

THEKLA. 

Yes ;  I  confess  to  you 
That  many  things  delight  me  here  :  this  camp, 
This  motley  stage  of  warriors,  which  renews 
So  manifold  the  image  of  my  fancy, 
And  binds  to  life,  binds  to  reality, 
What  hitherto  had  but  been  present  to  me 
As  a  sweet  dream  ! 

MAX. 

Alas  !  not  so  to  me. 
It  makes  a  dream  of  my  reality. 
Upon  some  island  in  the  ethereal  heights 
I've  lived  for  these  last  days.     This  mass  of  men 
Forces  me  down  to  earth.     It  is  a  bridge 
That,  reconducting  to  my  former  life, 
Divides  me  and  my  heaven. 

THEKLA. 

The  game  of  life 
Looks  cheerful,  when  one  carries  in  one's  heart 
The  unalienable  treasure.     'Tis  a  game, 
Which,  having  once  reviewed,  I  turn  more  joyous 
Back  to  my  deeper  and  appropriate  bliss. 

[Breaking  off,  and  in  a  sportive  tone. 
In  this  short  time  that  I've  been  present  here. 
What  new  unheard-of  things  have  I  not  seen ; 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  83 

And  yet  they  all  must  give  place  to  the  wond 
Which  this  mysterious  castle  guards. 

COUNTESS  {recollecting). 

And  what 
Can  this  be  then  ?     Methought  I  was  acquainted 
With  all  the  dusky  corners  of  this  house. 

thekla  {smiling). 

Ay,  but  the  road  thereto  is  watched  by  spirits, 
Two  griffins  still  stand  sentry  at  the  door. 

countess  (laughs). 

The  astrological  tower !     How  happens  it 
That  this  same  sanctuary,  whose  access 
Is  to  all  others  so  impracticable, 
Opens  before  you  even  at  your  approach  ? 

THEKLA. 

A  dwarfish  old  man  with  a  friendly  face 
And  snow-white  hairs,  whose  gracious  services 
Were  mine  at  first  sight,  opened  me  the  doors. 

MAX. 

That  is  the  duke's  astrologer,  old  Seni. 

THEKLA. 

He  questioned  me  on  many  points ;  for  instance, 
When  I  was  born,  what  month,  and  on  what  day, 
Whether  by  day  or  in  the  night. 

COUNTESS. 

He  wished 
To  erect  a  figure  for  your  horoscope. 


84  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

THEKLA. 

My  hand  too  he  examined,  shook  his  head 

With  much  sad  meaning,  and  the  lines,  methought, 

Did  not  square  over  truly  with  his  wishes. 

COUNTESS. 

Well,  princess,  and  what  found  you  in  this  tower  ? 
My  highest  privilege  has  been  to  snatch 
A  side-glance,  and  away  ! 

THEKLA. 

It  was  a  strange 
Sensation  that  came  o'er  me,  when  at  first 
From  the  broad  sunshine  I  stepped  in ;  and  now 
The  narrowing  line  of  daylight,  that  ran  after 
The  closing  door,  was  gone ;  and  all  about  me 
'Twas  pale  and  dusky  night,  with  many  shadows 
Fantastically  cast.     Here  six  or  seven 
Colossal  statues,  and  all  kings,  stood  round  me 
In  a  half-circle.     Each  one  in  his  hand 
A  sceptre  bore,  and  on  his  head  a  star ; 
And  in  the  tower  no  other  light  was  there 
But  from  these  stars,  all  seemed  to  come  from  them. 
"  These  are  the  planets,"  said  that  low  old  man, 
"  They  govern  worldly  fates,  and  for  that  cause 
Are  imaged  here  as  kings.     He  farthest  from  you, 
Spiteful  and  cold,  an  old  man  melancholy, 
With  bent  and  yellow  forehead,  he  is  Saturn. 
He  opposite,  the  king  with  the  red  light, 
An  armed  man  for  the  battle,  that  is  Mars  ; 
And  both  these  bring  but  little  luck  to  man." 
But  at  his  side  a  lovely  lady  stood, 
The  star  upon  her  head  was  soft  and  bright, 
Oh,  that  was  Venus,  the  bright  star  of  joy. 
And  the  left  hand,  lo !  Mercury,  with  wings 
Quite  in  the  middle  glittered  silver  bright. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  85 

A  cheerful  man,  and  with  a  monarch's  mien ; 
And  this  was  Jupiter,  my  father's  star : 
And  at  his  side  I  saw  the  Sun  and  Moon. 


MAX. 

Oh,  never  rudely  will  I  blame  his  faith 

In  the  might  of  stars  and  angels.     'Tis  not  merely 

The  human  being's  pride  that  peoples  space 

With  life  and  mystical  predominance ; 

Since  likewise  for  the  stricken  heart  of  love 

This  visible  nature,  and  this  common  world, 

Is  all  too  narrow ;  yea,  a  deeper  import 

Lurks  in  the  legend  told  my  infant  years 

Than  lies  upon  that  truth,  we  live  to  learn. 

For  fable  is  love's  world,  his  home,  his  birthplace ; 

Delightedly  dwells  he  among  fays  and  talismans, 

And  spirits ;  and  delightedly  believes 

Divinities,  being  himself  divine. 

The  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets, 

The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 

The  power,  the  beauty,  and  the  majesty, 

That  had  her  haunts  in  dale,  or  piny  mountain, 

Or  forest  by  slow  stream,  or  pebbly  spring, 

Or  chasms,  and  watery  depths,  all  these  have  vanished 

They  live  no  longer  in  the  faith  of  reason  ! 

But  still  the  heart  doth  need  a  language,  still 

Doth  the  old  instinct  bring  back  the  old  names 

And  to  yon  starry  world  they  now  are  gone, 

Spirits  or  gods,  that  used  to  share  this  earth 

With  man  as  with  their  friend,1  and  to  the  lover 

Yonder  they  move,  from  yonder  visible  sky 

Shoot  influence  down :  and  even  at  this  day 

'Tis  Jupiter  who  brings  whate'er  is  great, 

And  Venus  who  brings  everything  that's  fair ! 

1  No  more  of  talk,  where  god  or  angel  guest 
With  man,  as  with  his  friend  familiar,  used 
To  sit  indulgent.  — Paradise  Lost,  B.  ix. 


86  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

THEKLA. 

And  if  this  be  the  science  of  the  stars, 

I  too,  with  glad  and  zealous  industry, 

Will  learn  acquaintance  with  this  cheerful  faith. 

It  is  a  gentle  and  affectionate  thought, 

That  in  immeasurable  heights  above  us, 

At  our  first  birth,  the  wreath  of  love  was  woven, 

With  sparkling  stars  for  flowers. 


COUNTESS. 

Not  only  roses 
But  thorns  too  hath  the  heaven,  and  well  for  you 
Leave  they  your  wreath  of  love  inviolate : 
What  Venus  twined,  the  bearer  of  glad  fortune, 
The  sullen  orb  of  Mars  soon  tears  to  pieces. 


MAX. 

Soon  will  this  gloomy  empire  reach  its  close. 

Blest  be  the  general's  zeal :  into  the  laurel 

Will  he  inweave  the  olive-branch,  presenting 

Peace  to  the  shouting  nations.     Then  no  wish 

Will  have  remained  for  his  great  heart !     Enough 

Has  he  performed  for  glory,  and  can  now 

Live  for  himself  and  his.     To  his  domains 

Will  he  retire ;  he  has  a  stately  seat 

Of  fairest  view  at  Gitschin ;  Reichenberg, 

And  Friedland  Castle,  both  lie  pleasantly ; 

Even  to  the  foot  of  the  huge  mountains  here 

Stretches  the  chase  and  covers  of  his  forests : 

His  ruling  passion  to  create  the  splendid 

He  can  indulge  without  restraint ;  can  give 

A  princely  patronage  to  every  art, 

And  to  all  worth  a  sovereign's  protection. 

Can  build,  can  plant,  can  watch  the  starry  courses  - 


THE    PICCOLOMINl  87 

COUNTESS. 

Yet  I  would  have  you  look,  and  look  again, 
Before  you  lay  aside  your  arms,  young  friend ! 
A  gentle  bride,  as  she  is,  is  well  worth  it, 
That  you  should  woo  and  win  her  with  the  sword. 

MAX. 

Oh,  that  the  sword  could  win  her ! 

COUNTESS. 

What  was  that  ? 
Did  you  hear  nothing  ?     Seemed  as  if  I  heard 
Tumult  and  larum  in  the  banquet-room. 

[Exit  Countess. 

Scene  V. 

Thekla  and  Max.  Piccolomini. 

thekla  (as  soon  as  the  countess  is  out  of  sight,  in 
a  quick,  lo%o  voice  to  piccolomini). 

Don't  trust  them !     They  are  false  ! 

MAX. 

Impossible ! 

THEKLA. 

Trust  no  one  here  but  me.     I  saw  at  once, 
They  had  a  purpose. 

MAX. 

Purpose  !  but  what  purpose  ? 
And  how  can  we  be  instrumental  to  it  ? 

THEKLA. 

I  know  no  more  than  you ;  but  yet  believe  me : 
There's  some  design  in  this ;  to  make  us  happy, 


88  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

To  realise  our  union  —  trust  me,  love  !■ 
They  but  pretend  to  wish  it. 

MAX. 

But  these  Terzkys  — 
Why  use  we  them  at  all  ?     Why  not  your  mother  ? 
Excellent  creature  !  she  deserves  from  us 
A  full  and  filial  confidence. 


THEKLA. 

She  doth  love  you, 
Doth  rate  you  high  before  all  others  —  but  — 
But  such  a  secret  —  she  would  never  have 
The  courage  to  conceal  it  from  my  father. 
For  her  own  peace  of  mind  we  must  preserve  it 
A  secret  from  her  too. 

MAX. 

Why  any  secret  ? 
I  love  not  secrets.     Mark  what  I  will  do. 
I'll  throw  me  at  your  father's  feet  —  let  him 
Decide  upon  my  fortunes  !     He  is  true, 
He  wears  no  mask  —  he  hates  all  crooked  ways 
He  is  so  good,  so  noble  ! 

THEKLA  (falls  on  his  neck). 
That  are  you ! 

MAX. 

You  knew  him  only  since  this  morn !  but  I 
Have  lived  ten  years  already  in  his  presence ; 
And  who  knows  whether  in  this  very  moment 
He  is  not  merely  waiting  for  us  both 
To  own  our  loves  in  order  to  unite  us  ? 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  89 

You  are  silent ! 

You  look  at  me  with  such  a  hopelessness ! 

What  have  you  to  object  against  your  father  ? 

THEKLA. 

I  ?     Nothing.     Only  he's  so  occupied  — 

He  has  no  leisure  time  to  think  about 

The  happiness  of  us  two.       [Taking  his  hand  tenderly. 

Follow  me ! 
Let  us  not  place  too  great  a  faith  in  men. 
These  Terzkys  —  we  will  still  be  grateful  to  them 
For  every  kindness,  but  not  trust  them  further 
Than  they  deserve ;  —  and  in  all  else  rely 
On  our  own  hearts  ! 

MAX. 

0  !  shall  we  e'er  be  happy  ? 

THEKLA. 

Are  we  not  happy  now  ?     Art  thou  not  mine  ? 

Am  I  not  thine  ?     There  lives  within  my  soul 

A  lofty  courage  —  'tis  love  gives  it  me ! 

I  ought  to  be  less  open  —  ought  to  hide 

My  heart  more  from  thee  —  so  decorum  dictates  : 

But  where  in  this  place  couldst  thou  seek  for  truth, 

If  in  my  mouth  thou  didst  not  find  it  ? 

We  now  have  met,  then  let  us  hold  each  other 

Clasped  in  a  lasting  and  a  firm  embrace. 

Believe  me  this  was  more  than  their  intent. 

Then  be  our  loves  like  some  blest  relic  kept 

Within  the  deep  recesses  of  the  heart. 

From  heaven  alone  the  love  has  been  bestowed, 

To  heaven  alone  our  gratitude  is  due ; 

It  can  work  wonders  for  us  still. 


90  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Scene  VI. 
To  them  enters  the  COUNTESS  Tekzky. 

countess  (in  a  pressing  manner). 

Come,  come ! 
My  husband  sends  me  for  you.     It  is  now 
The  latest  moment. 

[They  not  appearing  to  attend  to  what  she  says, 
she  steps  between  them. 
Part  you ! 

THEKLA. 

Oh,  not  yet ! 
It  has  been  scarce  a  moment. 

COUNTESS. 

Ay !     Then  time 
Flies  swiftly  with  your  highness,  princess  niece ! 

MAX. 

There  is  no  hurry,  aunt. 

COUNTESS. 

Away  !  away ! 
The  folks  begin  to  miss  you.     Twice  already 
His  father  has  asked  for  him. 

THEKLA. 

Ha,  his  father  1 

COUNTESS. 

You  understand  that,  niece  ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  91 

THEKLA. 

Why  needs  he 
To  go  at  all-  to  that  society  ? 
Tis  not  his  proper  company.     They  may 
Be  worthy  men,  but  he's  too  young  for  them ; 
In  brief,  he  suits  not  such  society. 

COUNTESS. 

You  mean,  you'd  rather  keep  him  wholly  here  ? 

thekla  {with  energy). 

Yes  !  you  have  hit  it,  aunt !     That  is  my  meaning, 
Leave  him  here  wholly  !     Tell  the  company  — 

COUNTESS. 

What !  have  you  lost  your  senses,  niece  ? 
Count,  you  remember  the  conditions.     Come ! 

max.  (to  thekla). 

Lady,  I  must  obey.     Farewell,  dear  lady ! 

[Thekla  turns   away  from   him   with    a  quick 
motion. 
What  say  you  then,  dear  lady  ? 

thekla  {without  looking  at  him). 

Nothing.     Go ! 

MAX. 

Can  I,  when  you  pre  angry  — 

[He  draws  up  to  her,  their  eyes  meet,  she  stands 
silent  a  moment,  then  throws  herself  into 
his  arms;  he  presses  her  fast  to  his 
heart. 


92  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

COUNTESS. 

Off  !  Heavens  !  if  any  one  should  come  ! 

Hark  !  What's  that  noise  ?  It  comes  this  way.  Off ! 
[Max.  tears  himself  away  out  of  her  arms  and 
goes.  The  Countess  accompanies  him.  Thekla 
follows  him  with  her  eyes  at  first,  walks  rest- 
lessly across  the  room,  then  stops,  and  remains 
standing,  lost  in  thought.  A  guitar  lies  on  the 
table,  she  seizes  it  as  by  a  sudden  emotion,  and 
after  she  has  played  awhile  an  irregular  and 
melanclioly  symphony,  she  falls  gradually  into 
the  music  and  sings. 


Scene  VII. 

THEKLA  (plays  and  sings). 

The  cloud  doth  gather,  the  greenwood  roar, 

The  damsel  paces  along  the  shore ; 

The  billows,  they  tumble  with  might,  with  might ; 

And  she  flings  out  her  voice  to  the  darksome  night ; 

Her  bosom  is  swelling  with  sorrow ; 
The  world  it  is  empty,  the  heart  will  die, 
There's  nothing  to  wish  for  beneath  the  sky  : 
Thou  Holy  One,  call  thy  child  away  ! 
I've  lived  and  loved,  and  that  was  to-day ; 

Make  ready  my  grave-clothes  to-morrow.1 

1 1  found  it  not  in  my  power  to  translate  this  song  with  literal 
fidelity,  preserving  at  the  same  time  the  Alcaic  movement,  and 
have  therefore  added  the  original,  with  a  prose  translation.  Some 
of  my  readers  may  be  more  fortunate. 

thekla  (spielt  und  singt). 

Der  Eichwald  brauset,  die  Wolken  ziehn, 
Das  Magdlein  wandelt  an  Ufers  Griin  ; 
Es  bricht  sich  die  Welle  mit  Macht,  mit  Macht, 
Und  sie  siugt  hinaus  in  die  finstre  Nacht, 
Das  Auge  von  Weinen  getriibet : 


THE   PICCOLOMINI  93 

Scene  VIII. 
Countess  (returns),  Thekla. 

COUNTESS. 

Fie,  lady  niece  !  to  throw  yourself  upon  him 
Like  a  poor  gift  to  one  who  cares  not  for  it, 
And  so  must  be  flung  after  him  !     For  you, 
Duke  Friedland's  only  child,  I  should  have  thought 
It  had  been  more  beseeming  to  have  shown  yourself 
More  chary  of  your  person. 

Das  Herz  ist  gestorben,  die  Welt  ist  leer, 
Und  weiter  giebt  sie  dem  Wunsche  nichts  inehr. 
Du  Heilige,  rufe  dein  Kind  zuriick, 
Ich  habe  genossen  das  irdische  Gliick, 
Ich  habe  gelebt  und  geliebet. 

LITERAL    TRANSLATION. 

thekla  (plays  and  sings). 

The  oak-forest  bellows,  the  clouds  gather,  the  damsel  walks  to 
and  fro  on  the  green  of  the  shore  ;  the  wave  breaks  with  might, 
with  might,  and  she  sings  out  into  the  dark  night,  her  eye  discol- 
oured with  weeping  :  the  heart  is  dead,  the  world  is  empty,  and 
further  gives  it  nothing  more  to  the  wish.  Thou  Holy  One,  call 
thy  child  home.  I  have  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  this  world,  I 
have  lived  and  have  loved. 

I  cannot  but  add  here  an  imitation  of  this  song,  with  which  my 
friend,  Charles  Lamb,  has  favoured  me,  and  which  appears  to  me 
to  have  caught  the  happiest  manner  of  our  old  ballads  : 

The  clouds  are  blackening,  the  storms  threatening, 
The  cavern  doth  mutter,  the  greenwood  moan  ! 

Billows  are  breaking,  the  damsel's  heart  aching, 
Thus  in  the  dark  night  she  singeth  alone, 
Her  eye  upward  roving  : 

The  world  is  empty,  the  heart  is  dead  surely, 

In  this  world  plainly  all  seemeth  amiss  ; 
To  thy  heaven,  Holy  One,  take  home  thy  little  one, 

I  have  partaken  of  all  earth's  bliss, 
Both  living  and  loving. 


94  THE    PICCOLOMINI 


THEKLA  (rising). 

And  what  mean  you  ? 


COUNTESS. 

I  mean,  niece,  that  you  should  not  have  forgotten 
"Who  you  are,  and  who  he  is.     But  perchance 
That  never  once  occurred  to  you. 

THEKLA. 

What  then? 

COUNTESS. 

That  you're  the  daughter  of  the  Prince  Duke  Friedland. 

THEKLA. 

Well,  and  what  farther  ? 

COUNTESS. 
What  ?  a  pretty  question  ! 

THEKLA. 

He  was  horn  that  which  we  have  but  become. 
He's  of  an  ancient  Lombard  family, 
Son  of  a  reigning  princess. 

COUNTESS. 

Are  you  dreaming  ? 
Talking  in  sleep  ?     An  excellent  jest,  forsooth ! 
We  shall  no  doubt  right  courteously  entreat  him 
To  honour  with  his  hand  the  richest  heiress 
In  Europe. 

THEKLA. 

That  will  not  be  necessary. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  95 

COUNTESS. 

Methinks  'twere  well,  though,  not  to  run  the  hazard. 

THEKLA. 

His  father  loves  him  ;  Count  Octavio 
Will  interpose  no  difficulty  — 

COUNTESS. 

His! 

His  father !     His  !     But  yours,  niece,  what  of  yours  ? 

THEKLA. 

Why,  I  begin  to  think  you  fear  his  father, 
So  anxiously  you  hide  it  from  the  man  ! 
His  father,  his,  I  mean. 

COUNTESS  (looks  at  her  as  scrutinising). 
Niece,  you  are  false. 

THEKLA. 

Are  you  then  wounded  ?     O,  be  friends  with  me ! 

COUNTESS. 

You  hold  your  game  for  won  already.     Do  not 
Triumph  too  soon ! 

thekla  (interrupting  her,  and  attempting  to  soothe  her). 
Nay  now,  be  friends  with  me. 

COUNTESS. 

It  is  not  yet  so  far  gone. 


96  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

THEKLA. 

I  believe  you. 

COUNTESS. 

Did  you  suppose  your  father  had  laid  out 

His  most  important  life  in  toils  of  war, 

Denied  himself  each  quiet  earthly  bliss, 

Had  banished  slumbers  from  his  tent,  devoted 

His  noble  head  to  care,  and  for  this  only, 

To  make  a  happier  pair  of  you  ?     At  length 

To  draw  you  from  your  convent,  and  conduct 

In  easy  triumph  to  your  arms  the  man 

That  chanced  to  please  your  eyes  !     All  this,  methinks, 

He  might  have  purchased  at  a  cheaper  rate. 

THEKLA. 

That  which  he  did  not  plant  for  me  might  yet 
Bear  me  fair  fruitage  of  its  own  accord. 
And  if  my  friendly  and  affectionate  fate, 
Out  of  his  fearful  and  enormous  being, 
Will  but  prepare  the  joys  of  life  for  me  — 

COUNTESS. 

Thou  see'st  it  with  a  lovelorn  maiden's  eyes, 

Cast  thine  eye  round,  bethink  thee  who  thou  art :  — 

Into  no  house  of  joyance  hast  thou  stepped, 

For  no  espousals  dost  thou  find  the  walls 

Decked  out,  no  guests  the  nuptial  garland  wearing ; 

Here  is  no  splendour  but  of  arms.     Or  thinkest  thou 

That  all  these  thousands  are  here  congregated 

To  lead  up  the  long  dances  at  thy  wedding ! 

Thou  see'st  thy  father's  forehead  full  of  thought, 

Thy  mother's  eye  in  tears :  upon  the  balance 

Lies  the  great  destiny  of  all  our  house. 

Leave  now  the  puny  wish,  the  girlish  feeling; 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  97 

Oh,  thrust  it  far  behind  thee  !     Give  thou  proof 
Thou'rt  the  daughter  of  the  mighty  —  his 
Who  where  he  moves  creates  the  wonderful. 
Not  to  herself  the  woman  must  belong, 
Annexed  and  bound  to  alien  destinies. 
But  she  performs  the  best  part,  she  the  wisest, 
Who  can  transmute  the  alien  into  self, 
Meet  and  disarm  necessity  by  choice ; 
And  what  must  be,  take  freely  to  her  heart, 
And  bear  and  foster  it  with  mother's  love. 

THEKLA. 

Such  ever  was  my  lesson  in  the  convent. 
I  had  no  loves,  no  wishes,  knew  myself 
Only  as  his  —  his  daughter  —  his,  the  mighty  ! 
His  fame,  the  echo  of  whose  blast  drove  to  me 
From  the  far  distance,  weakened  in  my  soul 
No  other  thought  than  this  —  I  am  appointed 
To  offer  myself  up  in  passiveness  to  him. 

COUNTESS. 

That  is  thy  fate.     Mould  thou  thy  wishes  to  it  — 
I  and  thy  mother  gave  thee  the  example. 

THEKLA. 

My  fate  hath  shown  me  him,  to  whom  behoves  it 
That  I  should  offer  up  myself.     In  gladness 
Him  will  I  follow. 

COUNTESS. 

Not  thy  fate  hath  shown  him ! 
Thy  heart,  say  rather  —  'twas  the  heart,  my  child ! 

THEKLA. 

Faith  hath  no  voice  but  the  heart's  impulses. 
I  am  all  his  !     His  present  —  his  alone. 


98  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Is  this  new  life,  which  lives  in  me  ?     He  hath 
A  right  to  his  own  creature.     What  was  I 
Ere  his  fair  love  infused  a  soul  into  me  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Thou  wouldst  oppose  thy  father,  then,  should  he 
Have  otherwise  determined  with  thy  person  ? 

[Thekla  remains  silent.     Tlie  Countess  continues. 
Thou  meanest  to  force  him  to  thy  liking  ?     Child, 
His  name  is  Friedland. 

THEKLA. 

My  name  too  is  Friedland. 
He  shall  have  found  a  genuine  daughter  in  me. 

COUNTESS. 

What !  he  has  vanquished  all  impediment, 
And  in  the  wilful  mood  of  his  own  daughter 
Shall  a  new  struggle  rise  for  him  ?     Child  !  child  ! 
As  yet  thou  hast  seen  thy  father's  smiles  alone ; 
The  eye  of  his  rage  thou  hast  not  seen.     Dear  child, 
I  will  not  frighten  thee.     To  that  extreme, 
I  trust  it  ne'er  shall  come.     His  will  is  yet 
Unknown  to  me ;  'tis  possible  his  aims 
May  have  the  same  direction  as  thy  wish. 
But  this  can  never,  never  be  his  will, 
That  thou,  the  daughter  of  his  haughty  fortunes, 
Shouldest  e'er  demean  thee  as  a  lovesick  maiden 
And  like  some  poor  cost-nothing,  fling  thyself 
Toward  the  man,  who,  if  that  high  prize  ever 
Be  destined  to  await  him,  yet  with  sacrifices 
The  highest  love  can  bring,  must  pay  for  it. 

[Exit  Countess. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI 


Scene  IX. 


99 


thekla  {who  during  the  last  speech  had  been  standing 
evidently  lost  in  her  reflections). 

I  thank  thee  for  the  hint.     It  turns 

My  sad  presentiment  to  certainty. 

And  it  is  so !     Not  one  friend  have  we  here, 

Not  one  true  heart !  we've  nothing  but  ourselves  ! 

Oh,  she  said  rightly  —  no  auspicious  signs 

Beam  on  this  covenant  of  our  affections. 

This  is  no  theatre  where  hope  abides : 

The  dull  thick  noise  of  war  alone  stirs  here, 

And  love  himself,  as  he  were  armed  in  steel, 

Steps  forth,  and  girds  him  for  the  strife  of  death. 

[Music  from  the  banquet-room  is  heard. 
There's  a  dark  spirit  walking  in  our  house. 
And  swiftly  will  the  destiny  close  on  us. 
It  drove  me  hither  from  my  calm  asylum, 
It  mocks  my  soul  with  charming  witchery, 
It  lures  me  forward  in  a  seraph's  shape, 
I  see  it  near,  I  see  it  nearer  floating, 
It  draws,  it  pulls  me  with  a  god-like  power  — 
And  lo  !  the  abyss  —  and  thither  am  I  moving  — 
I  have  no  power  within  me  not  to  move ! 

[TJie  music  from  the  banquet-room  becomes  louder. 
Oh,  when  a  house  is  doomed  in  fire  to  perish, 
Many  and  dark  Heaven  drives  his  clouds  together, 
Yea,  shoots  his  lightnings  down  from  sunny  heights, 
Flames  burst  from  out  the  subterraneous  chasms, 
And  fiends  and  angels,  mingling  in  their  fury, 
Sling  firebrands  at  the  burning  edifice.1   [Exit  Thekla. 

1  There  are  few  who  will  not  have  taste  enough  to  laugh  at  the 
two  concluding  lines  of  this  soliloquy  :  and  still  fewer,  I  would 
fain  hope,  who  would  not  have  been  more  disposed  to  shudder, 
had  I  given  a  faithful  translation.  For  the  readers  of  German  I 
have  added  the  original  : 

Blind  wiithend  schleudert  selbst  der  Gott  der  Freude 
Den  Pechkranz  in  das  brennende  Gebaude. 


ioo  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

ACT    IV. 

Scene  L 

A  large,  saloon  lighted  up  with  festal  splendour  ;  in  the 
midst  of  it,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  stage,  a  table 
richly  set  out,  at  which  eight  generals  are  sitting, 
among  whom  are  Octavio  Piccolomini,  Terzky, 
and  Maradas.  Bight  and  left  of  this,  but  farther 
back,  two  other  tables,  at  each  of  which  six  persons 
are  placed.  The  middle  door,  which  is  standing 
open,  gives  to  the  prospect  a  fourth  table  with  the 
same  number  of  persons.  More  forward  stands 
the  sideboard.  The  whole  front  of  the  stage  is  kept 
open  for  the  pages  and  servants-in-waiting.  All 
is  in  motion.  The  band  of  music  belonging  to 
Terzky's  regiment  march  across  the  stage,  and 
draw  up  around  the  tables.  Before  they  are  quite 
off  from  the  front  of  the  stage,  Max.  Piccolomini 
appears,  Terzky  advances  toward  him  with  a 
paper,  Isolani  comes  up  to  meet  him  with  a  beaker, 
or  service-cup. 

Terzky,  Isolani,  Max.  Piccolomini. 
isolani. 

Here,  brother,  what  we  love  !     Why,  where  hast  been  ? 
Off  to  thy  place  —  quick  !     Terzky  here  has  given 
The  mother's  holiday  wine  up  to  free  booty. 
Here  it  goes  on  as  at  the  Heidelberg  castle. 
Already  hast  thou  lost  the  best.     They're  giving 
At  yonder  table  ducal  crowns  in  shares ; 
There  Sternberg's  lands  and  chattels  are  put  up, 
With  Eggenberg's,  Stawata's,  Lichtenstein's, 
And  all  the  great  Bohemian  feudalities. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  101 

Be  nimble,  lad  !  and  something  may  turn  up 

For  thee,  who  knows  ?  off  —  to  thy  place  !  quick  !  march  ! 

tiefenbach  and  goetz  (call  out  from  the  second  and 

third  tables). 

Count  Piccolomini ! 

terzky. 

Stop,  ye  shall  have  him  in  an  instant.     Read 
This  oath  here,  whether  as  'tis  here  set  forth, 
The  wording  satisfies  you.     They've  all  read  it, 
Each  in  his  turn,  and  each  one  will  subscribe 
His  individual  signature. 

max.  (reads). 
"  Ingratis  servire  nefas" 

ISOLANI. 

That  sounds  to  my  ears  very  much  like  Latin, 
And  being  interpreted,  pray  what  may  it  mean  ? 

terzky. 
No  honest  man  will  serve  a  thankless  master. 

MAX. 

"  Inasmuch  as  our  supreme  commander,  the  illus- 
trious Duke  of  Friedland,  in  consequence  of  the  mani- 
fold affronts  and  grievances  which  he  has  received,  had 
expressed  his  determination  to  quit  the  emperor,  but 
on  our  unanimous  entreaty  has  graciously  consented 
to  remain  still  with  the  army,  and  not  to  part  from  us 
without  our  approbation  thereof,  so  we,  collectively  and 
each  in  particular,  in  the  stead  of  an  oath  personally 
taken,  do  hereby  oblige  ourselves  —  likewise  by  him 
honourably  and  faithfully  to  hold,  and  in  nowise  what- 


102  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

soever  from  him  to  part,  and  to  be  ready  to  shed  for  his 
interests  the  last  drop  of  our  blood,  so  far,  namely,  as 
our  oath  to  the  emperor  will  permit  it.  {These  last  words 
are  repeated  by  Isolani.)  In  testimony  of  which  we 
subscribe  our  names." 

TERZKY. 

Now !  are  you  willing  to  subscribe  to  this  paper  ? 

ISOLANI. 

Why  should  he  not  ?     All  officers  of  honour 
Can  do  it,  ay,  must  do  it.     Pen  and  ink  here ! 

TERZKY. 

Nay,  let  it  rest  till  after  meal. 

ISOLANI  (drawing  max.  along). 
Come,  Max.  [Both  seat  themselves  at  their  table. 


Scene  II. 

Terzky,   Neumann. 

terzky  (beckons  to  Neumann,  who  is  waiting  at  the 
side-table  and  steps  forward  with  him  to  the  edge 
of  the  stage). 

Have  you  the  copy  with  you,  Neumann  ?     Give  it. 
It  may  be  changed  for  the  other  ? 

NEUMANN. 

I  have  copied  it 
Letter  by  letter,  line  by  line ;  no  eye 
Would  e'er  discover  other  difference, 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  103 


Save  only  the  omission  of  that  clause, 
According  to  your  excellency's  order. 


TERZKY. 


Eight !  lay  it  yonder  and  away  with  this  — 

It  has  performed  its  business  —  to  the  fire  with  it. 

[Neumann  lays  the  copy  on  the  table,  and  steps 
back  again  to  the  side-table. 


Scene  III. 

Illo  (comes  out  from  the  second  chamber),  Terzky. 

illo. 
How  goes  it  with  young  Piccolomini  ? 

terzky. 
All  right,  I  think.     He  has  started  no  object. 

ILLO. 

He  is  the  only  one  I  fear  about  — 

He  and  his  father.     Have  an  eye  on  both. 

TERZKY. 

How  looks  it  at  your  table  :  you  forget  not 
To  keep  them  warm  and  stirring  ? 

ILLO. 

Oh,  quite  cordial, 
They  are  quite  cordial  in  the  scheme.     We  have  them, 
And  'tis  as  I  predicted  too.     Already 
It  is  the  talk,  not  merely  to  maintain 
The  duke  in  station.     "  Since  we're  once  for  all 
Together  and  unanimous,  why  not," 


104  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Says  Montecuculi,  "  ay,  why  not  onward, 
And  make  conditions  with  the  emperor 
There  in  his  own  Vienna  ? "     Trust  me,  count, 
Were  it  not  for  these  said  Piccolomini, 
We  might  have  spared  ourselves  the  cheat. 


TERZKY. 


How  goes  it  there  ?     Hush  ! 


And  Butler  ? 


Scene  IV. 
To  them  enter  Butler  from  a  second  table. 

BUTLER. 

Don't  disturb  yourselves ; 
Field-marshal,  I  have  understood  you  perfectly. 
Good  luck  be  to  the  scheme ;  and  as  to  me, 

[  With  an  air  of  mystery. 
You  may  depend  upon  me. 

ILLO  (with  vivacity). 

May  we,  Butler  ? 

BUTLER. 

With  or  without  the  clause,  all  one  to  me ! 

You  understand  me  !     My  fidelity 

The  duke  may  put  to  any  proof  —  I'm  with  him ! 

Tell  him  so !     I'm  the  emperor's  officer, 

As  long  as  'tis  his  pleasure  to  remain 

The  emperor's  general !  and  Friedland's  servant, 

As  soon  as  it  shall  please  him  to  become 

His  own  lord. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  105 

TERZKY. 

You  would  make  a  good  exchange. 
No  stern  economist,  no  Ferdinand, 
Is  he  to  whom  you  plight  your  services. 

BUTLER  (with  a  haughty  look). 

I  do  not  put  up  my  fidelity 

To  sale,  Count  Terzky !     Half  a  year  ago 

I  would  not  have  advised  you  to  have  made  me 

An  overture  to  that  to  which  I  now 

Offer  myself  of  my  own  free  accord. 

But  that  is  past !  and  to  the  duke,  field-marshal, 

I  bring  myself,  together  with  my  regiment. 

And  mark  you,  'tis  my  humour  to  believe, 

The  example  which  I  give  will  not  remain 

Without  an  influence. 

ILLO. 

Who  is  ignorant, 
That  the  whole  army  looks  to  Colonel  Butler 
As  to  a  light  that  moves  before  them  ? 

BUTLER. 

Ay? 
Then  I  repent  me  not  of  that  fidelity 
Which  for  the  length  of  forty  years  I  held, 
If  in  my  sixtieth  year  my  good  old  name 
Can  purchase  for  me  a  revenge  so  full. 
Start  not  at  what  I  say,  sir  generals ! 
My  real  motives  —  they  concern  not  you. 
And  you  yourselves,  I  trust,  could  not  expect 
That  this  your  game  had  crooked  my  judgment  —  or 
That  fickleness,  quick  blood,  or  such  like  cause, 
Has  driven  the  old  man  from  the  track  of  honour, 
Which  he  so  long  had  trodden.     Come,  my  friends ! 
I'm  not  thereto  determined  with  less  firmness, 


io6  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

Because  I  know  and  have  looked  steadily 
At  that  on  which  I  have  determined. 


ILLO. 

Say, 
And  speak  roundly,  what  are  we  to  deem  you  ? 

BUTLER. 

A  friend !  I  give  you  here  my  hand !  I'm  yours 

With  all  I  have.     Not  only  men,  but  money 

Will  the  duke  want.     Go,  tell  him,  sirs  ! 

I've  earned  and  laid  up  somewhat  in  his  service, 

I  lend  it  him ;  and  is  he  my  survivor, 

It  has  been  already  long  ago  bequeathed  to  him ; 

He  is  my  heir.     For  me,  I  stand  alone 

Here  in  the  world ;  naught  know  I  of  the  feeling 

That  binds  the  husband  to  a  wife  and  children. 

My  name  dies  with  me,  my  existence  ends. 

ILLO. 

Tis  not  your  money  that  he  needs  —  a  heart 
Like  yours  weighs  tons  of  gold  down,  weighs  down 
millions ! 

BUTLER. 

I  came  a  simple  soldier's  boy  from  Ireland 

To  Prague  —  and  with  a  master,  whom  I  buried. 

From  lowest  stable  duty  1  climbed  up, 

Such  was  the  fate  of  war,  to  this  high  rank, 

The  plaything  of  a  whimsical  good  fortune. 

And  Wallenstein  too  is  a  child  of  luck : 

I  love  a  fortune  that  is  like  my  own. 

ILLO. 

All  powerful  souls  have  kindred  with  each  other. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  107 

BUTLER. 

This  is  an  awful  moment !  to  the  brave, 

To  the  determined,  an  auspicious  moment. 

The  Prince  of  Weimar  arms,  upon  the  Main, 

To  found  a  mighty  dukedom.     He  of  Halberstadt, 

That  Mansfeldt,  wanted  but  a  longer  life 

To  have  marked  out  with  his  good  sword  a  lordship 

That  should  reward  his  courage.     Who  of  these 

Equals  our  Friedland  ?     There  is  nothiDg,  nothing 

So  high,  but  he  may  set  the  ladder  to  it ! 

TERZKY. 

That's  spoken  like  a  man ! 

BUTLER. 

Do  you  secure  the  Spaniard  and  Italian  — 
I'll  be  your  warrant  for  the  Scotchman  Lesly. 
Come  to  the  company  ! 

TERZKY. 

Where  is  the  master  of  the  cellar  ?     Ho  ! 

Let  the  best  wines  come  up.     Ho !  cheerly,  boy ! 

Luck  comes  to-day,  so  give  her  hearty  welcome. 

[Exeunt,  each  to  his  table. 


Scene  V. 

The  Master  of  the  Cellar,  advancing  with  Neumann, 
Servants  passing  backwards  and  forwards. 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

The  best  wine !  Oh,  if  my  old  mistress,  his  lady 
mother,  could  but  see  these  wild  goings  on  she  would 
turn  herself  round  in  her  grave.     Yes,  yes,  sir  officer ! 


108  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

'tis  all  down  the  hill  with  this  noble  house !  no  end,  no 
moderation  !  And  this  marriage  with  the  duke's  sister, 
a  splendid  connection,  a  very  splendid  connection  !  but 
I  will  tell  you,  sir  officer,  it  looks  no  good. 

NEUMANN. 

Heaven  forbid !  Why,  at  this  very  moment  the 
whole  prospect  is  in  bud  and  blossom  ! 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

You  think  so  ?  Well,  well !  much  may  be  said  on 
that  head. 

FIRST  SERVANT  (comes). 

Burgundy  for  the  fourth  table. 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

Now,  sir  lieutenant,  if  this  ain't  the  seventieth  flask  — 

FIRST  SERVANT. 

Why,  the  reason  is,  that  German  lord,  Tiefenbach, 
sits  at  that  table. 

master  OF  the  cellar  (continuing  his  discourse  to 

NEUMANN). 

They  are  soaring  too  high.  They  would  rival  kings 
and  electors  in  their  pomp  and  splendour;  and  wher- 
ever the  duke  leaps,  not  a  minute  does  my  gracious 
master,  the  count,  loiter  on  the  brink  —  (to  the  Ser- 
vants). What  do  you  stand  there  listening  for  ?  I 
will  let  you  know  you  have  legs  presently.  Off!  see 
to  the  tables,  see  to  the  flasks  !  Look  there !  Count 
Palfi  has  an  empty  glass  before  him ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  109 

eunner  (comes). 

The  great  service-cup  is  wanted,  sir,  that  rich  gold 
cup  with  the  Bohemian  arms  on  it.  The  count  says 
you  know  which  it  is. 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

Ay !  that  was  made  for  Frederick's  coronation  by 
the  artist  William  —  there  was  not  such  another  prize 
in  the  whole  booty  at  Prague. 

RUNNER. 

The  same  !  —  a  health  is  to  go  round  in  him. 

master  of  the  cellar  {shaking  his  head  while  he 
fetches  and  rinses  the  cups). 

This  will  be  something  for  the  tale-bearers  —  this 
goes  to  Vienna. 

NEUMANN. 

Permit  me  to  look  at  it.  Well,  this  is  a  cup  indeed  ! 
How  heavy !  as  well  it  may  be,  being  all  gold.  And 
what  neat  things  are  embossed  on  it !  how  natural  and 
elegant  they  look !  There,  on  the  first  quarter,  let  me 
see.  That  proud  amazon  there  on  horseback,  she  that 
is  taking  a  leap  over  the  crosier  and  mitres,  and  carries 
on  a  wand  a  hat  together  with  a  banner,  on  which 
there's  a  goblet  represented.  Can  you  tell  me  what  all 
this  signifies  ? 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

The  woman  you  see  there  on  horseback  is  the  Free 
Election  of  the  Bohemian  Crown.  That  is  signified  by 
the  round  hat  and  by  that  fiery  steed  on  which  she  is 
riding.  The  hat  is  the  pride  of  man ;  for  he  who 
cannot  keep  his  hat  on  before  kings  and  emperors  is  no 
free  man. 


no  THE    PICCOLOMIN1 

NEUMANN. 

But  what  is  the  cup  there  on  the  banner. 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

The  cup  signifies  the  freedom  of  the  Bohemian 
Church,  as  it  was  in  our  forefathers'  times.  Our  fore- 
fathers in  the  wars  of  the  Hussites  forced  from  the 
Pope  this  noble  privilege  ;  for  the  Pope,  you  know,  will 
not  grant  the  cup  to  any  layman.  Your  true  Moravian 
values  nothing  beyond  the  cup ;  it  is  his  costly  jewel, 
and  has  cost  the  Bohemians  their  precious  blood  in 
many  and  many  a  battle. 

NEUMANN. 

And  what  says  that  chart  that  hangs  in  the  air 
there,  over  it  all  ? 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

That  signifies  the  Bohemian  letter-royal  which  we 
forced  from  the  Emperor  Budolph  —  a  precious,  never 
to  be  enough  valued  parchment,  that  secures  to  the 
new  church  the  old  privileges  of  free  ringing  and  open 
psalmody.  But  since  he  of  Steiermark  has  ruled  over 
us  that  is  at  an  end ;  and  after  the  battle  at  Prague,  in 
which  Count  Palatine  Frederick  lost  crown  and  empire, 
our  faith  hangs  upon  the  pulpit  and  the  altar  —  and 
our  brethren  look  at  their  homes  over  their  shoulders ; 
but  the  letter-royal  the  emperor  himself  cut  to  pieces 
with  his  scissors. 

NEUMANN. 

Why,  my  good  Master  of  the  Cellar !  you  are  deep 
read  in  the  chronicles  of  your  country. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  in 


MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 


So  were  my  forefathers,  and  for  that  reason  were 
they  minstrels,  and  served  under  Procopius  and  Ziska. 
Peace  be  with  their  ashes !  Well,  well !  they  fought 
for  a  good  cause  though.     There  !  carry  it  up  ! 

NEUMANN. 

Stay  !  let  me  hut  look  at  this  second  quarter.  Look 
there  !  That  is,  when  at  Prague  Castle,  the  imperial 
counsellors,  Martinitz  and  Stawata,  were  hurled  down 
head  over  heels.  'Tis  even  so !  there  stands  Count 
Thur  who  commands  it. 

[Eunner  takes  the  service-cup  and  goes  off  with  it. 

MASTER  OF  THE  CELLAR. 

Oh,  let  me  never  more  hear  of  that  day.  It  was  the 
three  and  twentieth  of  May  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one 
thousand  six  hundred  and  eighteen.  It  seems  to  me 
as  it  were  but  yesterday  —  from  that  unlucky  day  it 
all  began,  all  the  heartaches  of  the  country.  Since 
that  day  it  is  now  sixteen  years,  and  there  has  never 
once  been  peace  on  the  earth. 

[Health  drunk  aloud  at  the  second  table. 

The  Prince  of  Weimar  !  Hurrah  ! 

[At  the  third  and  fourth  tables. 

Long  live  Prince  William  !  Long  live  Duke  Bernard  ! 
Hurrah  !  [Music  strikes  up. 

FIRST  SERVANT. 

Hear  'em  !     Hear  'em  !     What  an  uproar  ! 

second  servant  (comes  in  running). 

Did  you  hear  ?  They  have  drunk  the  Prince  of 
Weimar's  health. 

THIRD  SERVANT. 

The  Swedish  chief  commander ! 


H2  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

first  servant  (speaking  at  the  same  time). 
The  Lutheran ! 

SECOND  SERVANT. 

Just  before,  when  Count  Deodati  gave  out  the 
emperor's  health,  they  were  all  as  mum  as  a  nibbling 
mouse. 

MASTER    OF    THE    CELLAR. 

Po,  po  !  When  the  wine  goes  in  strange  things  come 
out.  A  good  servant  hears,  and  hears  not !  You  should 
be  nothing  but  eyes  and  feet,  except  when  you  are 
called  to. 

SECOND    SERVANT. 

[To  the  Runner,  to  whom  he  gives  secretly  a  flask 
of  wine,  keeping  his  eye  on  the  Master  of 
the  Cellar,  standing  between  him  and  the 
Runner. 

Quick,  Thomas !  before  the  Master  of  the  Cellar 
runs  this  way  ;  'tis  a  flask  of  Frontignac  !  Snapped  it 
up  at  the  third  table.     Canst  go  off  with  it  ? 

runner  (hides  it  in  his  pocket). 
All  right !  [Exit  the  Second  Servant. 

third  servant  (aside  to  the  first). 

Be  on  the  hark,  Jack !  that  we  may  have  right 
plenty  to  tell  to  Father  Quivoga.  He  will  give  us 
right  plenty  of  absolution  in  return  for  it. 

FIRST  SERVANT. 

For  that  very  purpose  I  am  always  having  some- 
thing to  do  behind  Illo's  chair.  He  is  the  man  for 
speeches  to  make  you  stare  with. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  113 

MASTER    OF    THE    CELLAR    (to    NEUMANN). 

Who,  pray,  may  that  swarthy  man  be,  he  with  the 
cross,  that  is  chatting  so  confidently  with  Esterhats  ? 

NEUMANN. 

Ay,  he  too  is  one  of  those  to  whom  they  confide  too 
much.     He  calls  himself  Maradas  ;  a  Spaniard  is  he. 

master  of  the  cellar  {impatiently). 

Spaniard !  Spaniard !  I  tell  you,  friend,  nothing 
good  comes  of  those  Spaniards.  All  these  outlandish 
fellows  are  little  better  than  rogues. 

NEUMANN. 

Fy,  fy !  you  should  not  say  so,  friend.  There  are 
among  them  our  very  best  generals,  and  those  on 
whom  the  duke  at  this  moment  relies  the  most. 


master  of  the  cellar  (Taking  the  flask  out  of  the 

Eunner's  pocket). 

My  son,  it  will  be  broken  to  pieces  in  your  pocket. 
[Terzky  hurries  in,  fetches  away  the  paper,  and 
calls  to  a  servant  for  pen  and  ink,  and  goes 
to  the  hack  of  the  stage. 

MASTER   OF   THE   CELLAR    (to    the   SERVANTS). 

The  lieutenant-general  stands  up.     Be  on  the  watch. 

Now !    They  break  up.    Off,  and  move  back  the  forms. 

[They  rise  at  all  the  tables,  the  Servants  hurry 

off  the  front  of  the  stage  to  the  tables ;  part 

of  the  guests  come  forward. 


ii4  THE    PICCOLOMINI 


Scene   VI. 

Octavio  Piccolomini  enters,  in  conversation  with  Mara- 
DAS,  and  both  place  themselves  quite  on  the  edge  of 
the  stage  on  one  side  of  the  proscenium.  On  the 
side  directly  opposite,  Max.  Piccolomini,  by  him- 
self, lost  in  thought,  and  taking  no  part  in  any- 
thing that  is  going  forward.  Tiie  middle  space 
between  both,  but  rather  more  distant  from  the 
edge  of  the  stage,  is  filled  up  by  Butler,  Isolani, 
Goetz,  Tiefenbach,  and  Kolatto. 

isolani  (while  the  company  is  coming  forward). 

Good-night,  good-night,  Kolatto !  Good-night,  lieu- 
tenant-general !     I  should  rather  say  good-morning. 

GOETZ    (to   TIEFENBACH). 

Noble  brother !  (making  the  usual  compliment  after 
meals). 

TIEFENBACH. 

Ay  !  'twas  a  royal  feast  indeed. 

GOETZ. 

Yes,  my  lady  countess  understands  these  matters. 
Her  mother-in-law,  heaven  rest  her  soul,  taught  her ! 
Ah !  that  was  a  housewife  for  you  ! 

TIEFENBACH. 

There  was  not  her  like  in  all  Bohemia  for  setting 
out  a  table. 

octavio  (aside  to  maradas). 

Do  me  the  favour  to  talk  to  me  —  talk  of  what  you 
will  —  or  of  nothing.     Only  preserve  the  appearance 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  115 

at  least  of  talking.  I  would  not  wish  to  stand  by 
myself,  and  yet  I  conjecture  that  there  will  be  goings 
on  here  worthy  of  our  attentive  observation.  (He  con- 
tinues to  fix  his  eye  on  the  whole  following  scene.) 

isolani  (on  the  point  of  going). 
Lights !  lights ! 

terzky  (advances  with  the  paper  to  isolani). 

Noble  brother ;  two  minutes  longer  !     Here  is  some- 
thing to  subscribe. 

ISOLANI. 

Subscribe  as  much  as  you  like  —  but  you  must  ex- 
cuse me  from  reading  it. 

TERZKY. 

There  is  no  need.     It  is  the  oath  which  you  have 
already  read.     Only  a  fe*w  marks  of  your  pen ! 

[Isolani  hands  over  the  paper  to  Octavio  respect- 
fully. 

TERZKY. 

Nay,  nay,  first  come,  first  served.     There  is  no  pre- 
cedence here. 

[Octavio  runs  over  the  paper  with  apparent  in- 
difference. Terzky  watches  him  at  some  dis- 
tance. 

GOETZ    (to   TERZKY). 

Noble  count !  with  your  permission  —  good-night. 

TERZKY. 

Where's  the  hurry  ?      Come,  one  other  composing 
draught.     (To  the  Servants.)     Ho  ! 


n6  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

GOETZ. 

Excuse  me  —  ain't  able. 

TERZKY. 

A  thimble-full ! 

GOETZ. 

Excuse  me. 

TIEFENBACH    (sits  doWTl). 

Pardon  me,  nobles !  This  standing  does  not  agree 
with  me. 

TERZKY. 

Consult  your  own  convenience,  general. 

TIEFENBACH. 

Clear  at  head,  sound  in  stomach  —  only  my  legs 
won't  carry  me  any  longer. 

isolani  (pointing  at  his  corpulence^). 

Poor  legs !  how  should  they  !  Such  an  unmerciful 
load! 

[Octavio  subscribes  his  name,  and  reaches  over  the 
paper  to  Terzky,  who  gives  it  to  Isolani  ; 
and  he  goes  to  the  table  to  sign  his  name. 

TIEFENBACH. 

'Twas  that  war  in  Pomerania  that  first  brought  it  on. 
Out  in  all  weathers  —  ice  and  snow  —  no  help  for  it. 
I  shall  never  get  the  better  of  it  all  the  days  of  my 
life. 

GOETZ. 

Why,  in  simple  verity,  your  Swedes  make  no  nice 
inquiries  about  the  season. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  117 

terzky  (observing  isolani,  whose  hand  trembles  exces- 
sively so  that  he  can  scarce  direct  his  pen). 

Have  you  had  that  ugly  complaint  long,  noble 
brother  ?     Despatch  it. 

ISOLANI. 

*  The  sins  of  youth  !    I  have  already  tried  the  chalyb- 
eate waters.     Well  —  I  must  bear  it. 

[Tekzky  gives  the  paper  to  Maradas  ;  he  steps  to 
the  table  to  subscribe. 

octavio  (advancing  to  butler). 

You  are  not  overfond  of  the  orgies  of  Bacchus, 
colonel !  I  have  observed  it.  You  would,  I  think, 
find  yourself  more  to  your  liking  in  the  uproar  of 
a  battle  than  of  a  feast. 

BUTLER. 

I  must  confess  'tis  not  in  my  way. 

octavio  (stepping  nearer  to  him  friendlilif). 

Nor  in  mine  neither,  I  can  assure  you;  and  I  am 
not  a  little  glad,  my  much-honoured  Colonel  Butler, 
that  we  agree  so  well  in  our  opinions.  A  half-dozen 
good  friends  at  most,  at  a  small  round  table,  a  glass  of 
genuine  Tokay,  open  hearts,  and  a  rational  conversation 
—  that's  my  taste. 

BUTLER. 

And  mine,  too,  when  it  can  be  had. 

\The  paper  comes  to  Tiefenbach,  who  glances  over 
it  at  the  same  time  ivith  Goetz  and  Kolatto. 
Maradas  in  the  meantime  returns  to  Octa- 
vio. All  this  takes  place,  the  conversation 
with  Butler  proceeding  uninterrupted. 


n8  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

OCTAVIO  (introducing  MAR  AD  AS  to  BUTLER). 

Don  Balthasar  Maradas !  likewise  a  man  of  our 
stamp,  and  long  ago  your  admirer.  [Butler  hows. 

octavio  (continuing'). 

You  are  a  stranger  here  —  'twas  but  yesterday  you 
arrived  —  you  are  ignorant  of  the  ways  and  means 
here.  "lis  a  wretched  place.  I  know  at  your  age  one 
loves  to  be  snug  and  quiet.  What  if  you  move  your 
lodgings  ?  Come,  be  my  visitor.  (Butler  makes  a 
low  how.)  Nay,  without  compliment !  For  a  friend 
like  you  I  have  still  a  corner  remaining. 

butler  (coldly). 

Your  obliged  humble  servant,  my  lord  lieutenant- 
general. 

[The  paper  comes  to  Butler,  who  goes  to  the  table 
to  subscribe  it.  The  front  of  the  stage  is 
vacant,  so  that  both  the  Piccolominis,  each 
on  the  side  where  he  had  been  from  the  com- 
mencement of  the  scene  remain  alone. 

OCTAVIO   (after  having  some  time  watched  his  son  in 
silence,  advances  somewhat  nearer  to  him). 

You  were  long  absent  from  us,  friend ! 

MAX. 

I  —  urgent  business  detained  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

And,  I  observe,  you  are  still  absent ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  119 

MAX. 

You  know  this  crowd  and  bustle  always  makes  me 
silent. 

octavio  (advancing  still  nearer). 

May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  what  the  business  was 
that  detained  you  ?     Terzky  knows  it  without  asking. 

MAX. 

What  does  Terzky  know  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

He  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  miss  you. 

isolani  (who  has  been  attending  to  them  for  some  dis- 
tance steps  up). 

Well  done,  father !  Rout  out  his  baggage !  Beat 
up  his  quarters !  there  is  something  there  that  should 
not  be. 

teezky  (with  the  paper). 
Is  there  none  wanting  ?     Have  the  whole  subscribed  1 

OCTAVIO. 

All. 

TEEZKY  (calling  aloud). 

Ho !     Who  subscribes  ? 

BUTLER  (to  TERZKY). 

Count  the  names.     There  ought  to  be  just  thirty. 

TERZKY. 

Here  is  a  cross. 

TIEFENBACH. 

That's  my  mark ! 


120  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

ISOLANI. 

He  cannot  write ;  but  his  cross  is  a  good  cross,  and 
is  honoured  by  Jews  as  well  as  Christians. 

octavio  (presses  on  to  max.). 
Come,  general !   let  us  go.     It  is  late. 

TEEZKY. 

One  Piccolomini  only  has  signed. 

isolani  (pointing  to  max). 

Look  !  that  is  your  man,  that  statue  there,  who  has  had 
neither  eye,  ear,  nor  tongue  for  us  the  whole  evening. 
[Max.  receives  the  paper  from  Teezky,  which  he 
looks  upon  vacantly. 

Scene  VII. 

To  these  enter  Illo  from  the  inner  room.  He  has 
in  his  hand  a  golden  service-cup,  and  is  extremely 
distempered  with  drinking;  Goetz  and  Butlek 
follow  him,  endeavouring  to  keep  him  hack. 

ILLO. 

What  do  you  want !     Let  me  go. 

GOETZ  and  BUTLEK. 

Drink  no  more,  Illo !     For  heaven's  sake,  drink  no 
more. 

illo  (goes  up  to  octavio  and  shakes  him  cordially  by 
the  hand,  and  then  drinks). 

Octavio !     I  bring  this  to  you !     Let  all  grudge  be 
drowned  in  this  friendly  bowl !     I  know  well  enough 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  121 

you  never  loved  me  —  devil  take  ine !  and  I  never 
loved  you  !  I  am  always  even  with  people  in  that 
way !  Let  what's  past  be  past  —  that  is,  you  under- 
stand —  forgotten !  I  esteem  you  infinitely.  (Em- 
hracing  him  repeatedly.)  You  have  not  a  dearer  friend 
on  earth  than  I,  but  that  you  know.  The  fellow  that 
cries  rogue  to  you  calls  me  villain,  and  I'll  strangle 
him !  my  dear  friend ! 

tekzky  (whispering  to  him). 

Art  in  thy  senses  ?  For  heaven's  sake,  Illo,  think 
where  you  are! 

illo  (aloud'). 

What  do  you  mean  ?  There  are  none  but  friends 
here,  are  there  ?  (Looks  around  the  whole  circle  with  a 
jolly  and  triumphant  air.)  Not  a  sneaker  amongst 
us,  thank  heaven ! 

terzky  {to  butler,  eagerly). 

Take  him  off  with  you,  force  him  off,  I  entreat  you, 
Butler ! 

BUTLER  (to  ILLO). 

Field-marshal !  a  word  with  you.  (Leads  to  the  side- 
hoard.) 

ILLO  (cordially). 

A  thousand  for  one.  Fill ;  fill  it  once  more  up  to 
the  brim.     To  this  gallant  man's  health ! 

ISOLANI  (to  MAX.  who  all  the  while  has  been  staring  on 
the  paper  with  fixed  but  vacant  eyes). 

Slow  and  sure,  my  noble  brother !  Hast  parsed  it 
all  yet  ?     Some  words  yet  to  go  through  ?     Ha  ? 


122  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

max.  (waking  as  from,  a  dream*). 
What  am  I  to  do  ? 

tekzky,  and  at  the  same  time  isolani. 

Sign  your  name. 
[Octavio  directs  his  eyes  on  him  with  intense  anxiety. 

max.  (returns  the  paper*). 

Let  it  stay  till  to-morrow.  It  is  business;  to-day 
I  am  not  sufficiently  collected.  Send  it  to  me  to- 
morrow. 

TERZKY. 

Nay,  collect  yourself  a  little. 

ISOLANI. 

Awake  man,  awake  !  Come,  thy  signature,  and  have 
done  with  it !  What !  Thou  art  the  youngest  in  the 
whole  company,  and  would  be  wiser  than  all  of  us 
together !  Look  there !  thy  father  has  signed ;  we 
have  all  signed. 

TERZKY  (to  OCTAVIO). 

Use  your  influence.     Instruct  him. 

OCTAVIO. 

My  son  is  at  the  age  of  discretion. 

illo  {leaves  the  service-cup  on  the  sideboard). 
What's  the  dispute  ? 

TERZKY 

He  declines  subscribing  the  paper. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  123 

MAX. 

I  say  it  may  as  well  stay  till  to-morrow. 

ILLO. 

It  cannot  stay.  We  have  all  subscribed  to  it  — 
and  so  must  you.     You  must  subscribe. 

MAX. 

Illo,  good-night ! 

ILLO. 

No !  you  come  not  off  so !  The  duke  shall  learn 
who  are  his  friends.    [All  collect  around  Illo  and  Max. 

MAX. 

What  my  sentiments  are  toward  the  duke,  the  duke 
knows,  every  one  knows  —  what  need  of  this  wild 
stuff? 

ILLO. 

This  is  the  thanks  the  duke  gets  for  his  partiality 
to  Italians  and  foreigners.  Us  Bohemians  he  holds 
for  little  better  than  dullards  —  nothing  pleases  him 
but  what's  outlandish. 

terzky  (in  extreme  embarrassment,  to  the  Command- 
ers, who  at  illo's  words  give  a  sudden  start  as 
preparing  to  resent  them). 

It  is  the  wine  that  speaks,  and  not  his  reason.  At- 
tend not  to  him,  I  entreat  you. 

isolani  (with  a  bitter  laugh). 
Wine  invents  nothing :  it  only  tattles. 


124  THE    P1CCOLOMINI 


ILLO. 


He  who  is  not  with  me  is  against  me.  Your  tender 
consciences !  Unless  they  can  slip  out  by  a  back-door, 
by  a  puny  proviso  — 

terzky  {interrupting  him). 
He  is  stark  mad  —  don't  listen  to  him ! 

illo  {raising  his  voice  to  the  highest  'pitch). 

Unless  they  can  slip  out  by  a  proviso.  What  of  the 
proviso  ?     The  devil  take  this  proviso  ! 

MAX.  {has  his  attention  roused,  and  looks  again  into  the 

paper). 

What  is  there  here  then  of  such  perilous  import  ? 
You  make  me  curious  —  I  must  look  closer  at  it. 

terzky  {in  a  low  voice  to  illo). 
What  are  you  doing,  Illo  ?     You  are  ruining  us. 

TIEFENBACH  {to  KOLATTO). 

Ay,  ay !  I  observed,  that  before  we  sat  down  to 
supper,  it  was  read  differently. 

GOETZ. 

Why,  I  seemed  to  think  so  too. 

ISOLANI. 

What  do  I  care  for  that  ?  Where  there  stand  other 
names  mine  can  stand  too. 

TIEFENBACH. 

Before  supper  there  was  a  certain  proviso  therein,  or 
short  clause,  concerning  our  duties  to  the  emperor. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  125 

butlek  (to  one  of  the  commanders). 

For  shame,  for  shame !  Bethink  you.  What  is  the 
main  business  here  ?  The  question  now  is,  whether  we 
shall  keep  our  general,  or  let  him  retire.  One  must 
not  take  these  things  too  nicely,  and  overscrupulously. 

isolani  (to  one  of  the  generals). 

Did  the  duke  make  any  of  these  provisos  when  he 
gave  you  your  regiment  ? 

TERZKY  (to  GOETZ). 

Or  when  he  gave  you  the  office  of  army-purveyancer, 
which  brings  you  in  yearly  a  thousand  pistoles  ? 

ILLO. 

He  is  a  rascal  who  makes  us  out  to  be  rogues.  If 
there  be  any  one  that  wants  satisfaction,  let  him  say 
so,  —  I  am  his  man. 

TIEFENBACH. 

Softly,  softly  !     'Twas  but  a  word  or  two. 

max.  (having  read  the  paper  gives  it  back). 
Till  to-morrow  therefore ! 

ILLO  (stammering  with  rage  and  fury,  loses  all  com- 
mand over  himself  and  presents  the  paper  to  max. 
with  one  hand,  and  his  sword  in  the  other). 

Subscribe  —  Judas ! 

ISOLANI. 

Out  upon  you,  Illo  ! 

octavio,  terzky,  butler  (all  together). 
Down  with  the  sword  ! 


126  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

max.  (rushes  on  him  suddenly  and  disarms  him,  then  to 

count  terzky). 

Take  him  off  to  bed  ! 

[Max.  leaves  the  stage.  Illo  cursing  and  raving 
is  held  hack  by  some  of  the  officers,  and  amidst 
a  universal  confusion  the  curtain  drops. 


ACT   V. 

Scene  I. 

A  Chamber  in  Piccolomini's  Mansion.     It  is  Night. 

Octavio  Piccolomini.      A  Valet  de  Chambre  with 

Lights. 

OCTAVIO. 

—  And  when  my  son  comes  in,  conduct  him  hither. 
What  is  the  hour  ? 

valet. 

"Tis  on  the  point  of  morning. 

OCTAVIO. 

Set  down  the  light.     We  mean  not  to  undress. 

You  may  retire  to  sleep. 

[Exit  Valet.  Octavio  paces,  musing,  across  the 
chamber;  Max.  Piccolomini  enters  unob- 
served, and  looks  at  his  father  for  some  mo- 
ments in  silence. 

MAX. 

Art  thou  offended  with  me  ?     Heaven  knows 
That  odious  business  was  no  fault  of  mine. 
Tis  true,  indeed,  I  saw  thy  signature ; 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  127 

What  thou  hast  sanctioned,  should  not,  it  might  seem, 
Have  come  amiss  to  me.     But  —  tis  my  nature  — 
Thou  know'st  that  in  such  matters  I  must  follow 
My  own  light,  not  another's. 

octavio  {goes  up  to  him  and  embraces  him). 

Follow  it, 
Oh,  follow  it  still  further,  my  best  son ! 
To-night,  dear  boy !  it  hath  more  faithfully 
Guided  thee  than  the  example  of  thy  father. 

MAX. 

Declare  thyself  less  darkly. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  will  do  so  ; 
For  after  what  has  taken  place  this  night, 
There  must  remain  no  secrets  'twixt  us  two. 

[Both  seat  themselves. 
Max.  Piccolomini !  what  thinkest  thou  of 
The  oath  that  was  sent  round  for  signatures  ? 


MAX. 

I  hold  it  for  a  thing  of  harmless  import, 
Although  I  love  not  these  set  declarations. 


OCTAVIO. 

And  on  no  other  ground  hast  thou  refused 
The  signature  they  fain  had  wrested  from  thee  ? 

MAX. 

It  was  a  serious  business.     I  was  absent  — 
The  affair  itself  seemed  not  so  urgent  to  me. 


128  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

OCTAVIO. 

Be  open,  Max.     Thou  hadst  then  no  suspicion  ? 

MAX. 

Suspicion !  what  suspicion  ?     Not  the  least. 

OCTAVIO. 

Thank  thy  good  angel,  Piccolomini ; 

He  drew  thee  back  unconscious  from  the  abyss. 

MAX. 

I  know  not  what  thou  meanest. 


OCTAVIO. 

I  will  tell  thee. 
Fain  would  they  have  extorted  from  thee,  son, 
The  sanction  of  thy  name  to  villany ; 
Yes,  with  a  single  flourish  of  thy  pen, 
Made  thee  renounce  thy  duty  and  thy  honour ! 

max.  (rises). 
Octavio ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Patience !  Seat  yourself.     Much  yet 
Hast  thou  to  hear  from  me,  friend !     Hast  for  years 
Lived  in  incomprehensible  illusion. 
Before  thine  eyes  is  treason  drawing  out 
As  black  a  web  as  e'er  was  spun  for  venom : 
A  power  of  hell  o'erclouds  thy  understanding. 
I  dare  no  longer  stand  in  silence  —  dare 
No  longer  see  thee  wandering  on  in  darkness, 
Nor  pluck  the  bandage  from  thine  eyes. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  129 

MAX. 

My  father ! 
Yet,  ere  thou  speakest,  a  moment's  pause  of  thought ! 
If  your  disclosures  should  appear  to  be 
Conjectures  only  —  and  almost  I  fear 
They  will  be  nothing  further  —  spare  them  ! 
Am  not  in  that  collected  mood  at  present, 
That  I  could  listen  to  them  quietly. 

OCTAVIO. 

The  deeper  cause  thou  hast  to  hate  this  light, 

The  more  impatient  cause  have  I,  my  son, 

To  force  it  on  thee.     To  the  innocence 

And  wisdom  of  thy  heart  I  could  have  trusted  thee 

With  calm  assurance  —  but  I  see  the  net 

Preparing  —  and  it  is  thy  heart  itself 

Alarms  me,  for  thine  innocence  —  that  secret 

[Fixing  his  eyes  steadfastly  on  his  son's  face. 
Which  thou  concealest,  forces  mine  from  me. 

[Max.  attempts  to  answer,  but  hesitates,  and  casts 
his  eyes  to  the  ground  embarrassed. 

OCTAVIO  {after  a  pause). 

Know,  then,  they  are  duping  thee  !  —  a  most  foul  game 

With  thee  and  with  us  all  —  nay,  hear  me  calmly  — 

The  duke  even  now  is  playing.     He  assumes 

The  mask,  as  if  he  would  forsake  the  army ; 

And  in  this  moment  makes  he  preparations 

That  army  from  the  emperor  to  steal, 

And  carry  it  over  to  the  enemy  ! 

MAX. 

That  low  priest's  legend  I  know  well,  but  did  not 
Expect  to  hear  it  from  thy  mouth. 


ISO  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

OCTAVIO. 

That  mouth, 
From  which  thou  hearest  it  at  this  present  moment, 
Doth  warrant  thee  that  it  is  no  priest's  legend. 

MAX. 

How  mere  a  maniac  they  supposed  the  duke ; 
What,  he  can  meditate  ?  —  the  duke  ?  —  can  dream 
That  he  can  lure  away  full  thirty  thousand 
Tried  troops  and  true,  all  honourable  soldiers, 
More  than  a  thousand  noblemen  among  them, 
From  oaths,  from  duty,  from  their  honour  lure  them, 
And  make  them  all  unanimous  to  do 
A  deed  that  brands  them  scoundrels  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

Such  a  deed, 
With  such  a  front  of  infamy,  the  duke 
No  way  desires  —  what  he  requires  of  us 
Bears  a  far  gentler  appellation.     Nothing 
He  wishes  but  to  give  the  empire  peace. 
And  so,  because  the  emperor  hates  this  peace, 
Therefore  the  duke  —  the  duke  will  force  him  to  it. 
All  parts  of  the  empire  will  he  pacify, 
And  for  his  trouble  will  retain  in  payment 
(What  he  has  already  in  his  gripe)  —  Bohemia ! 

MAX. 

Has  he,  Octavio,  merited  of  us, 

That  we  —  that  we  should  think  so  vilely  of  him  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

What  would  we  think  is  not  the  question  here, 
The  affair  speaks  for  itself  —  and  clearest  proofs  ! 
Hear  me,  my  son  —  'tis  not  unknown  to  thee, 
In  what  ill  credit  with  the  court  we  stand. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  131 

But  little  dost  thou  know,  or  guess  what  tricks, 

What  base  intrigues,  what  lying  artifices, 

Have  been  employed  —  for  this  sole  end  —  to  sow 

Mutiny  in  the  camp  !     All  bands  are  loosed  — 

Loosed  all  the  bands  that  link  the  officer 

To  his  liege  emperor,  all  that  bind  the  soldier 

Affectionately  to  the  citizen. 

Lawless  he  stands,  and  threateningly  beleaguers 

The  state  he's  bound  to  guard.     To  such  a  height 

'Tis  swollen,  that  at  this  hour  the  emperor 

Before  his  armies  —  his  own  armies  —  trembles  ; 

Yea,  in  his  capital,  his  palace,  fears 

The  traitor's  poniard,  and  is  meditating 

To  hurry  off  and  hide  his  tender  offspring  — 

Not  from  the  Swedes,  not  from  the  Lutherans  —  no, 

From  his  own  troops  to  hide  and  hurry  them ! 


MAX. 

Cease,  cease  !  thou  torturest,  shatterest  me.     I  know 
That  oft  we  tremble  at  an  empty  terror ; 
But  the  false  phantasm  brings  a  real  misery. 

OCTAVIO. 

It  is  no  phantasm.     An  intestine  war, 
Of  all  the  most  unnatural  and  cruel, 
Will  burst  out  into  flames,  if  instantly 
We  do  not  fly  and  stifle  it.     The  generals 
Are  many  of  them  long  ago  won  over ; 
The  subalterns  are  vacillating ;  whole 
Regiments  and  garrisons  are  vacillating. 
To  foreigners  our  strongholds  are  intrusted ; 
To  that  suspected  Schafgotch  is  the  whole 
Force  of  Silesia  given  up :  to  Terzky 
Five  regiments,  foot  and  horse ;  to  Isolani, 
To  Illo,  Kinsky,  Butler,  the  best  troops. 


132  THE    PICCOLOMINl 

MAX. 

Likewise  to  both  of  us. 

OCTAVIO. 

Because  the  duke 
Believes  he  has  secured  us,  means  to  lure  us 
Still  further  on  by  splendid  promises. 
To  me  he  portions  forth  the  princedoms,  Glatz 
And  Sagan ;  and  too  plain  I  see  the  bait 
With  which  he  doubts  not  but  to  catch  thee. 

MAX. 

No !  no ! 
I  tell  thee,  no  ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Oh,  open  yet  thine  eyes ! 
And  to  what  purpose  think'st  thou  he  has  called 
Hither  to  Pilsen  ?  to  avail  himself 
Of  our  advice  ?     Oh,  when  did  Friedland  ever 
Need  our  advice  ?     Be  calm,  and  listen  to  me. 
To  sell  ourselves  are  we  called  hither,  and 
Decline  we  that,  to  be  his  hostages. 
Therefore  doth  noble  Gallas  stand  aloof ; 
Thy  father,  too,  thou  wouldst  not  have  seen  here, 
If  higher  duties  had  not  held  him  fettered. 

MAX. 

He  makes  no  secret  of  it  —  needs  make  none  — 
That  we're  called  hither  for  his  sake  —  he  owns  it. 
He  needs  our  aidance  to  maintain  himself  — 
He  did  so  much  for  us ;  and  'tis  but  fair 
That  we,  too,  should  do  somewhat  now  for  him. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  know'st  thou  what  it  is  which  we  must  do  ? 
That  Illo's  drunken  mood  betrayed  it  to  thee. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  133 

Bethink  thyself,  what  hast  thou  heard,  what  seen  ? 
The  counterfeited  paper,  the  omission 
Of  that  particular  clause,  so  full  of  meaning, 
Does  it  not  prove  that  they  would  bind  us  down 
To  nothing  good  ? 

MAX. 

That  counterfeited  paper 
Appears  to  me  no  other  than  a  trick 
Of  Illo's  own  device.     These  underhand 
Traders  in  great  men's  interests  ever  use 
To  urge  and  hurry  all  things  to  the  extreme. 
They  see  the  duke  at  variance  with  the  court, 
And  fondly  think  to  serve  him,  when  they  widen 
The  breach  irreparably.     Trust  me,  father, 
The  duke  knows  nothing  of  all  this. 

OCTAVIO. 

It  grieves  me 
That  I  must  dash  to  earth,  that  I  must  shatter 
A  faith  so  specious ;  but  I  may  not  spare  thee ! 
For  this  is  not  a  time  for  tenderness. 
Thou  must  take  measures,  speedy  ones,  must  act. 
I  therefore  will  confess  to  thee  that  all 
Which  I've  intrusted  to  thee  now,  that  all 
Which  seems  to  thee  so  unbelievable, 
That  —  yes,  I  will  tell  thee  (a  'pause)  Max.  !  I  had  it  all 
From  his  own  mouth,  from  the  duke's  mouth  I  had  it. 

max  (in  excessive  agitation). 
No  !  no !  never ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Himself  confided  to  me 
What  I,  'tis  true,  had  long  before  discovered 
By  other  means ;  himself  confided  to  me, 
That  'twas  his  settled  plan  to  join  the  Swedes ; 


134  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

And,  at  the  head  of  the  united  armies, 
Compel  the  emperor  — 

MAX. 

He  is  passionate, 
The  court  has  stung  him ;  he  is  sore  all  over 
With  injuries  and  affronts ;  and  in  a  moment 
Of  irritation,  what  if  he,  for  once, 
Forgot  himself  ?     He's  an  impetuous  man. 

OCTAVIO. 

Nay,  in  cold  blood  he  did  confess  this  to  me : 
And  having  construed  my  astonishment 
Into  a  scruple  of  his  power,  he  showed  me 
His  written  evidences  —  showed  me  letters, 
Both  from  the  Saxon  and  the  Swede,  that  gave 
Promise  of  aidance,  and  defined  the  amount. 

MAX. 

It  cannot  be  !  —  cannot  be !  cannot  be  ! 

Dost  thou  not  see,  it  cannot ! 

Thou  wouldst  of  necessity  have  shown  him 

Such  horror,  such  deep  loathing  —  that  or  he 

Had  taken  thee  for  his  better  genius,  or 

Thou  stood'st  not  now  a  living  man  before  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  have  laid  open  my  objections  to  him, 

Dissuaded  him  with  pressing  earnestness ; 

But  my  abhorrence,  the  full  sentiment 

Of  my  whole  heart  —  that  I  have  still  kept  sacred 

To  my  own  consciousness. 

MAX.. 

And  thou  hast  been 
So  treacherous  ?     That  looks  not  like  my  father ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  135 

I  trusted  not  thy  words,  when  thou  didst  tell  me 
Evil  of  him ;  much  less  can  I  now  do  it, 
That  thou  calumniatest  thy  own  self. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  did  not  thrust  myself  into  his  secrecy. 

MAX. 

Uprightness  merited  his  confidence. 

OCTAVIO. 

He  was  no  longer  worthy  of  sincerity. 

MAX. 

Dissimulation,  sure,  was  still  less  worthy 
Of  thee,  Octavio ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Gave  I  him  a  cause 
To  entertain  a  scruple  of  my  honour  ? 

MAX. 

That  he  did  not  evinced  his  confidence. 

OCTAVIO. 

Dear  son,  it  is  not  always  possible 

Still  to  preserve  that  infant  purity 

Which  the  voice  teaches  in  our  inmost  heart, 

Still  in  alarm,  for  ever  on  the  watch 

Against  the  wiles  of  wicked  men :  e'en  virtue 

Will  sometimes  bear  away  her  outward  robes 

Soiled  in  the  wrestle  with  iniquity. 

This  is  the  curse  of  every  evil  deed 

That,  propagating  still,  it  brings  forth  evil. 

I  do  not  cheat  my  better  soul  with  sophisms ; 


136  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

I  but  perform  my  orders ;  the  emperor 

Prescribes  my  conduct  to  me.     Dearest  boy, 

Far  better  were  it,  doubtless,  if  we  all 

Obeyed  the  heart  at  all  times ;  but  so  doing, 

In  this  our  present  sojourn  with  bad  men, 

We  must  abandon  many  an  honest  object. 

Tis  now  our  call  to  serve  the  emperor ; 

By  what  means  he  can  best  be  served  —  the  heart 

May  whisper  what  it  will  —  this  is  our  call ! 

MAX. 

It  seems  a  thing  appointed,  that  to-day 

I  should  not  comprehend,  nor  understand  thee. 

The  duke,  thou  say  est,  did  honestly  pour  out 

His  heart  to  thee,  but  for  an  evil  purpose : 

And  thou  dishonestly  hast  cheated  him 

For  a  good  purpose  !     Silence,  I  entreat  thee  — 

My  friend,  thou  stealest  not  from  me  — 

Let  me  not  lose  my  father ! 

octavio  {suppressing  resentment). 

As  yet  thou  knowest  not  all,  my  son.     I  have 
Yet  somewhat  to  disclose  to  thee.     [After  a  pause. 

Duke  Friedland 
Hath  made  his  preparations.      He  relies 
Upon  the  stars.     He  deems  us  unprovided, 
And  thinks  to  fall  upon  us  by  surprise. 
Yea,  in  his  dream  of  hope,  he  grasps  already 
The  golden  circle  in  his  hand.     He  errs, 
We,  too,  have  been  in  action  —  he  but  grasps 
His  evil  fate,  most  evil,  most  mysterious ! 

MAX. 

Oh,  nothing  rash,  my  sire !     By  all  that's  good, 
Let  me  invoke  thee  —  no  precipitation  ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  137 


OCTAVIO. 


With  light  tread  stole  he  on  his  evil  way, 

And  light  of  tread  hath  vengeance  stole  on  after  him. 

Unseen  she  stands  already,  dark  behind  him  — 

But  one  step  more  —  he  shudders  in  her  grasp ! 

Thou  hast  seen  Questenberg  with  me.     As  yet 

Thou  knowest  but  his  ostensible  commission  : 

He  brought  with  him  a  private  one,  my  son ! 

And  that  was  for  me  only. 

MAX. 

May  I  know  it  ? 

OCTAVIO  (seizes  the  patent). 

Max. ! 

[A  pause. 
—  In  this  disclosure  place  I  in  thy  hands 
The  empire's  welfare  and  thy  father's  life. 
Dear  to  thy  inmost  heart  is  Wallenstein : 
A  powerful  tie  of  love,  of  veneration, 
Hath  knit  thee  to  him  from  thy  earliest  youth. 
Thou  nourishest  the  wish,  —  0  let  me  still 
Anticipate  thy  loitering  confidence  ! 
The  hope  thou  nourishest  to  knit  thyself 
Yet  closer  to  him  — 

MAX. 

Father  — 

OCTAVIO. 

Oh,  my  son ! 
I  trust  thy  heart  undoubtingly.     But  am  I 
Equally  sure  of  thy  collectedness  ? 
Wilt  thou  be  able,  with  calm  countenance, 
To  enter  this  man's  presence,  when  that  I 
Have  trusted  to  thee  his  whole  fate  ? 


138  THE    PICCOLOMIN! 

MAX. 

According 
As  thou  dost  trust  me,  father,  with  his  crime. 

[Octavio  takes  a  paper  out  of  his  escritoire  and 
gives  it  to  him. 

MAX. 

What !  how  !  a  full  imperial  patent ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Bead  it. 

max.  (Just  glances  on  it). 
Duke  Friedland  sentenced  and  condemned  ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Even  so 

max.  (throws  down  the  paper). 

Oh,  this  is  too  much  !     0  unhappy  error ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Bead  on.     Collect  thyself. 

MAX.  {after  he  has  read  further,  with  a  look  of  affright 
and  astonishment  on  his  father). 

How !  what !     Thou  !  thou  ! 

OCTAVIO. 

But  for  the  present  moment,  till  the  King 
Of  Hungary  may  safely  join  the  army, 
Is  the  command  assigned  to  me. 

MAX. 

And  think'st  thou, 
Dost  thou  believe,  that  thou  will  tear  it  from  him  ? 
Oh,  never  hope  it !     Father  !  father  !  father  ! 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  139 

An  inauspicious  office  is  enjoined  thee. 
This  paper  here  !  —  this  !  and  wilt  thou  enforce  it  ? 
The  mighty  in  the  middle  of  his  host, 
Surrounded  by  his  thousands,  him  wouldst  thou 
Disarm  —  degrade  !     Thou  art  lost,  both  thou  and  all 
of  us. 

OCTAVIO. 

What  hazard  I  incur  thereby,  I  know. 
In  the  great  hand  of  God  I  stand.     The  Almighty 
Will  cover  with  his  shield  the  imperial  house, 
And  shatter,  in  his  wrath,  the  work  of  darkness. 
The  emperor  hath  true  servants  still ;  and  even 
Here  in  the  camp,  there  are  enough  brave  men 
Who  for  the  good  cause  will  fight  gallantly. 
The  faithful  have  been  warned  —  the  dangerous 
Are  closely  watched.     I  wait  but  the  first  step, 
And  then  immediately  — 

MAX. 

What !  on  suspicion  ? 
Immediately  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

The  emperor  is  no  tyrant. 
The  deed  alone  he'll  punish,  not  the  wish. 
The  duke  hath  yet  his  destiny  in  his  power. 
Let  him  but  leave  the  treason  uncompleted, 
He  will  be  silently  displaced  from  office, 
And  make  way  to  his  emperor's  royal  son. 
An  honourable  exile  to  his  castles 
Will  be  a  benefaction  to  him  rather 
Than  punishment.     But  the  first  open  step  — 

MAX. 

What  callest  thou  such  a  step  ?     A  wicked  step 
Ne'er  will  he  take ;  but  thou  mightest  easily, 
Yea,  thou  hast  done  it,  misinterpret  him. 


140  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

OCTAVIO. 

Nay,  howsoever  punishable  were 

Duke  Friedland's  purposes,  yet  still  the  steps 

Which  he  hath  taken  openly  permit 

A  mild  construction.     It  is  my  intention 

To  leave  this  paper  wholly  unenforced 

Till  some  act  is  committed  which  convicts  him 

Of  high  treason,  without  doubt  or  plea, 

And  that  shall  sentence  him. 

MAX. 

But  who  the  judge  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

Thyself. 

MAX. 

For  ever,  then,  this  paper  will  he  idle. 

OCTAVIO. 

Too  soon,  I  fear,  its  powers  must  all  be  proved. 

After  the  counter-promise  of  this  evening, 

It  cannot  be  but  he  must  deem  himself 

Secure  of  the  majority  with  us ; 

And  of  the  army's  general  sentiment 

He  hath  a  pleasing  proof  in  that  petition, 

Which  thou  delivered'st  to  him  from  the  regiments. 

Add  this  too  —  I  have  letters  that  the  Ehinegrave 

Hath  changed  his  route,  and  travels  by  forced  marches 

To  the  Bohemian  forests.     What  this  purports 

Bemains  unknown ;  and,  to  confirm  suspicion, 

This  night  a  Swedish  nobleman  arrived  here. 

MAX. 

I  have  thy  word.     Thou'lt  not  proceed  to  action 
Before  thou  hast  convinced  me  —  me  myself. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  141 


OCTAVIO. 


Is  it  possible  ?     Still,  after  all  thou  know'st, 
Canst  thou  believe  still  in  his  innocence  ? 


MAX.  (with  enthusiasm). 

Thy  judgment  may  mistake ;  my  heart  cannot. 

[Moderates  his  voice  and  manner. 
These  reasons  might  expound  thy  spirit  or  mine ; 
But  they  expound  not  Friedland  —  I  have  faith : 
For  as  he  knits  his  fortunes  to  the  stars, 
Even  so  doth  he  resemble  them  in  secret, 
Wonderful,  still  inexplicable  courses  ! 
Trust  me,  they  do  him  wrong.     All  will  be  solved. 
These  smokes  at  once  will  kindle  into  flame  — 
The  edges  of  this  black  and  stormy  cloud 
Will  brighten  suddenly,  and  we  shall  view 
The  unapproachable  glide  out  in  splendour. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  will  await  it. 


Scene  II. 

Octavio  and  Max.  as  before.     To  them  the  Valet  of 

the  Chamber. 

octavio. 
How  now,  then  ? 

VALET. 

A  despatch  is  at  the  door. 

OCTAVIO. 

So  early  ?     From  whom  comes  he  then  ?     Who  is  it  ? 


142  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

VALET. 
That  he  refused  to  tell  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

Lead  him  in : 
And,  hark  you  —  let  it  not  transpire. 

[Exit  Valet  :  the  Cornet  steps  in. 

OCTAVIO. 

Ha !  cornet  —  is  it  you  ;  and  from  Count  Gallas  ? 
Give  me  your  letters. 

CORNET. 

The  lieutenant-general 
Trusted  it  not  to  letters. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  what  is  it  ? 

CORNET. 

He  bade  me  tell  you  —  Dare  I  speak  openly  here  ? 


My  son  knows  all. 

OCTAVIO. 
CORNET. 

We  have  him. 

OCTAVIO. 

Whom 

2 

The  old  negotiator. 

CORNET. 

Sesina, 

THE    PICCOLOMINI  143 

OCTAVIO  {eagerly). 
And  you  have  him  ? 

CORNET. 

In  the  Bohemian  Forest  Captain  Mohrbrand 
Found  and  secured  him  yester-morning  early. 
He  was  proceeding  then  to  Kegensburg, 
And  on  him  were  despatches  for  the  Swede. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  the  despatches  — 

CORNET. 

The  lieutenant-general 
Sent  them  that  instant  to  Vienna,  and 
The  prisoner  with  them. 

OCTAVIO. 

This  is,  indeed,  a  tiding ! 
That  fellow  is  a  precious  casket  to  us, 
Enclosing  weighty  things.     Was  much  found  on  him  ? 

CORNET. 

I  think,  six  packets,  with  Count  Terzky's  arms. 

OCTAVIO. 

None  in  the  duke's  own  hand  ? 

CORNET. 

Not  that  I  know. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  old  Sesina  ? 


i44  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

CORNET. 

He  was  sorely  frightened, 
When  it  was  told  him  he  must  to  Vienna ; 
But  the  Count  Altringer  bade  him  take  heart, 
Would  he  but  make  a  full  and  free  confession. 


OCTAVIO. 

Is  Altringer  then  with  your  lord  ?     I  heard 
That  he  lay  sick  at  Linz. 

CORNET. 

These  three  days  past 
He's  with  my  master,  the  lieutenant-general, 
At  Frauenburg.     Already  have  they  sixty 
Small  companies  together,  chosen  men ; 
Respectfully  they  greet  you  with  assurances, 
That  they  are  only  waiting  your  commands. 

OCTAVIO. 

In  a  few  days  may  great  events  take  place. 
And  when  must  you  return  ? 

CORNET. 

I  wait  your  orders. 

OCTAVIO. 

Remain  till  evening. 

[Cornet  signifies  his  assent  and  obeisance,  and  is  going. 

No  one  saw  you  —  ha  ? 

CORNET. 

No  living  creature.     Through  the  cloister  wicket 
The  Capuchins,  as  usual,  let  me  in. 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  145 

OCTAVIO. 

Go,  rest  your  limbs,  and  keep  yourself  concealed. 

I  hold  it  probable  that  yet  ere  evening 

I  shall  despatch  you.     The  development 

Of  this  affair  approaches :  ere  the  day, 

That  even  now  is  dawning  in  the  heaven, 

Ere  this  eventful  day  hath  set,  the  lot 

That  must  decide  our  fortunes  will  be  drawn. 

\Exit  Cornet. 

Scene   III. 
Octavio  and  Max.  Piccolo-mini. 

octavio. 

"Well  —  and  what  now,  son  ?     All  will  soon  be  clear ; 
For  all,  I'm  certain,  went  through  that  Sesina. 

MAX.  (who  throtigh  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  scene  has 
been  in  a  violent  and  visible  struggle  of  feelings,  at 
length  starts  as  one  resolved). 

I  will   procure  me  light  a  shorter  way. 
Farewell. 

OCTAVIO. 

Where  now  ?     Eemain  here. 

MAX. 

To  the  Duke. 

OCTAVIO  (alarmed). 
What  — 

MAX.  (returning). 

If  thou  hast  believed  that  I  shall  act 
A  part  in  this  thy  play,  thou  hast 
Miscalculated  on  me  grievously. 
My  way  must  be  straight  on.     True  with  the  tongue, 


146  THE    PICCOLOMINI 

False  with  heart  —  I  may  not,  cannot  be  : 

Nor  can  I  suffer  that  a  man  should  trust  me  — 

As  his  friend  trust  me  —  and  then  lull  my  conscience 

With  such  low  pleas  as  these  :  "  I  ask  him  not  — 

He  did  it  all  at  his  own  hazard  —  and 

My  mouth  has  never  lied  to  him."     No,  no ! 

What  a  friend  takes  me  for,  that  I  must  be. 

I'll  to  the  duke ;  ere  yet  this  day  is  ended 

Will  I  demand  of  him  that  he  do  save 

His  good  name  from  the  world,  and  with  one  stride 

Break  through  and  rend  this  fine-spun  web  of  yours. 

He  can,  he  will !     I  still  am  his  believer, 

Yet  I'll  not  pledge  myself,  but  that  those  letters 

May  furnish  you,  perchance,  with  proofs  against  him. 

How  far  may  not  this  Terzky  have  proceeded  — 

What  may  not  he  himself  too  have  permitted 

Himself  to  do,  to  snare  the  enemy, 

The  laws  of  war  excusing  ?     Nothing,  save 

His  own  mouth  shall  convict  him  —  nothing  less ! 

And  face  to  face  will  I  go  question  him. 

OCTAVIO. 

Thou  wilt  ? 

MAX. 

I  will,  as  sure  as  this  heart  beats. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  have,  indeed,  miscalculated  on  thee. 

I  calculated  on  a  prudent  son, 

Who  would  have  blessed  the  hand  beneficent 

That  plucked  him  back  from  the  abyss  —  and  lo ! 

A  fascinated  being  I  discover, 

Whom  his  two  eyes  befool,  whom  passion  wilders, 

Whom  not  the  broadest  light  of  noon  can  heal. 

Go,  question  him !     Be  mad  enough,  I  pray  thee. 

The  purpose  of  thy  father,  of  thy  emperor, 


THE    PICCOLOMINI  147 

Go,  give  it  up  free  booty  !     Force  me,  drive  me 
To  an  open  breach  before  the  time.     And  now, 
Now  that  a  miracle  of  heaven  had  guarded 
My  secret  purpose  even  to  this  hour, 
And  laid  to  sleep  suspicion's  piercing  eyes, 
Let  me  have  lived  to  see  that  mine  own  son, 
With  frantic  enterprise,  annihilates 
My  toilsome  labours  and  state  policy. 

MAX. 

Ay  —  this  state  policy  !     Oh,  how  I  curse  it ! 

You  will  sometime,  with  your  state  policy, 

Compel  him  to  the  measure :  it  may  happen, 

Because  ye  are  determined  that  he  is  guilty, 

Guilty  ye'll  make  him.     All  retreat  cut  off, 

You  close  up  every  outlet,  hem  him  in 

Narrower  and  narrower,  till  at  length  ye  force  him  — 

Yes,  ye,  ye  force  him,  in  his  desperation, 

To  set  fire  to  his  prison.     Father  !  father  ! 

That  never  can  end  well  —  it  cannot  —  will  not ! 

And  let  it  be  decided  as  it  may, 

I  see  with  boding  heart  the  near  approach 

Of  an  ill-starred,  unblest  catastrophe. 

For  this  great  monarch-spirit,  if  he  fall, 

Will  drag  a  world  into  the  ruin  with  him. 

And  as  a  ship  that  midway  on  the  ocean 

Takes  fire,  at  once,  and  with  a  thunder-burst 

Explodes,  and  with  itself  shoots  out  its  crew 

In  smoke  and  ruin  betwixt  sea  and  heaven ! 

So  will  he,  falling,  draw  down  in  his  fall 

All  us,  who're  fixed  and  mortised  to  his  fortune, 

Deem  of  it  what  thou  wilt ;  but  pardon  me, 

That  I  must  bear  me  on  in  my  own  way. 

All  must  remain  pure  betwixt  him  and  me ; 

And,  ere  the  daylight  dawns,  it  must  be  known 

Which  I  must  lose  —  my  father  or  my  friend. 

[During  his  exit  the  curtain  drops. 


The   Death   of  Wallenstein 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

Wallexstf.ix.  Duke  of  Friedland.  Generalissimo  of  the 
Imperial  Forces  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 

Duchess  of  Friedland.  Wife  of  Wallenstein. 

Thekla,  her  Daughter,  Princess  of  Friedland. 

The  Countess  Terzky,  Sister  of  the  Duchess. 

Lady  Xeubrunn. 

Octavio  Piccolomini.  Lieutenant-General. 

Max.  Piccolomini.  his  Son,  Colonel  of  a  Regiment  of  Cui- 
rassiers. 

Count  Terzky.  the  Commander  of  several  Regiments,  and 
Brother-in-law  of  Wallenstein. 

Illo.  Field-Marshal.  Wallenstein's  Confidant. 

Isolani.  General  of  the  Croats. 

Butler,  an  Irishman.  Commander  of  a  Regiment  of  Dragoons. 

Gordon.  Governor  of  Egra. 

Major  Geraldin. 

Captain  Devereux. 

Captain  Macdonald. 

An  Adjutant. 

Neumann.  Captain  of  Cavalry.  Aide-de-Camp  to  Terzky. 

Colonel  Wrangel.  Envoy  from  the  Swedes. 

Rosexburg.  Master  of  Horse. 

Swedish  Captain. 

Semi. 

Burgomaster  of  Egra. 

Anspessade,  of  the  Cuirassiers. 

Groom  of  the  Chamber.  )„,  ,,     ^.  , 

.   p  '  £■  Belonging  to  the  Duke. 

Cuirassiers,  Dragoons,  and  Servants. 


The   Death   of  Wallenstein 


ACT   I. 

Scene  I. 

A  room  fitted  up  for  astrological  labours,  and  provided 
with  celestial  charts,  with  globes,  telescopes,  quad- 
rants, and  other  mathematical  instruments.  Seven 
colossal  figures,  representing  the  planets,  each  vnth 
a  transparent  star  of  different  colour  on  its  head, 
stand  in  a  semicircle  in  the  background,  so  that 
Mars  and  Saturn  are  nearest  the  eye.  Tlie  re- 
mainder  of  the  scene  and  its  disposition  is  given  in 
the  fourth  scene  of  the  second  act.  There  must  be 
a  curtain  over  the  figures,  which  may  be  dropped 
and  conceal  them  on  occasions. 
\In  the  fifth  scene  of  this  act  it  must  be  dropped ; 
but  in  the  seventh  scene  it  must  be  again  drawn  up 
wholly  or  in  part.] 

Wallenstein  at  a  black  table,  on  which  a  speculum 
astrologicum  is  described  vjith  chalk.  Seni  is 
taking  observations  through  a  window. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

All  well  —  and  now  let  it  be  ended,  Seni.     Come, 
The  dawn  commences,  and  Mars  rules  the  hour ; 

151 


152  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

We  must  give  o'er  the  operation.     Come, 
We  know  enough. 

SENI. 

Your  highness  must  permit  me 
Just  to  contemplate  Venus.     She  is  now  rising : 
Like  as  a  sun  so  shines  she  in  the  east. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

She  is  at  present  in  her  perigee, 

And  now  shoots  down  her  strongest  influences. 

[Contemplating  the  figure  on  the  table. 
Auspicious  aspect !  fateful  in  conjunction, 
At  length  the  mighty  three  corradiate ; 
And  the  two  stars  of  blessing,  Jupiter 
And  Venus,  take  between  them  the  malignant 
Slyly-malicious  Mars,  and  thus  compel 
Into  my  service  that  old  mischief-founder : 
For  long  he  viewed  me  hostilely,  and  ever 
With  beam  oblique,  or  perpendicular, 
Now  in  the  Quartile,  now  in  the  Secundan, 
Shot  his  red  lightnings  at  my  stars,  disturbing 
Their  blessed  influences  and  sweet  aspects : 
Now  they  have  conquered  the  old  enemy, 
And  bring  him  in  the  heavens  a  prisoner  to  me. 

Seni  (who  has  come  down  from  the  window). 

And  in  a  corner-house,  your  highness  —  think  of  that ! 
That  makes  each  influence  of  double  strength. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  sun  and  moon,  too,  in  the  Sextile  aspect, 
The  soft  light  with  the  vehement  —  so  I  love  it. 
Sol  is  the  heart,  Luna  the  head  of  heaven, 
Bold  be  the  plan,  fiery  the  execution. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  153 


SENI. 


And  both  the  mighty  Lumina  by  no 
Maleficus  affronted.  Lo !  Saturnus, 
Innocuous,  powerless,  in  cadente  Domo. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  empire  of  Saturnus  is  gone  by ; 

Lord  of  the  secret  birth  of  things  is  he ; 

Within  the  lap  of  earth,  and  in  the  depths 

Of  the  imagination  dominates ; 

And  his  are  all  things  that  eschew  the  light. 

The  time  is  o'er  of  brooding  and  contrivance, 

For  Jupiter,  the  lustrous,  lordeth  now, 

And  the  dark  work,  complete  of  preparation, 

He  draws  by  force  into  the  realm  of  light. 

Now  must  we  hasten  on  to  action,  ere 

The  scheme,  and  most  auspicious  positure 

Parts  o'er  my  head,  and  takes  once  more  its  flight, 

For  the  heaven's  journey  still,  and  adjourn  not. 

[There  are  knocks  at  the  door. 
There's  some  one  knocking  there.     See  who  it  is. 

teezky  (from  without). 
Open,  and  let  me  in. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Ay  —  'tis  Terzky. 
What  is  there  of  such  urgence  ?     We  are  busy. 

teezky  {from  without). 

Lay  all  aside  at  present,  I  entreat  you ; 
It  suffers  no  delaying. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Open,  Seni ! 
[  While  Seni  opens  the  door  for  Terzky,  Wallen- 
STEIN  draws  the  curtain  over  the  figures. 


154  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Scene  II. 
Wallenstein,  Count  Terzky. 

terzky  (enters). 

Hast  thou  already  heard  it  ?     He  is  taken. 
Gallas  has  given  him  up  to  the  emperor. 

[Seni  draws  off  the  black  table  and  exit. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  TERZKY). 

Who  has  been  taken  ?     Who  is  given  up  ? 

TERZKY. 

The  man  who  knows  our  secrets,  who  knows  every 

Negotiation  with  the  Swede  and  Saxon, 

Through  whose  hands  all  and  everything  has  passed  — 

wallenstein  {drawing  back). 
Nay,  not  Sesina  ?     Say,  no  !  I  entreat  thee. 

TERZKY. 

All  on  his  road  for  Eegensburg  to  the  Swede 
He  was  plunged  down  upon  by  Gallas'  agent, 
Who  had  been  long  in  ambush,  lurking  for  him. 
There  must  have  been  found  on  him  my  whole  packet 
To  Thur,  to  Kinsky,  to  Oxenstiern,  to  Arnheim  : 
All  this  is  in  their  hands  :  they  have  now  an  insight 
Into  the  whole  —  our  measures  and  our  motives. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  155 

Scene  III. 
To  them  enters  Illo. 

ILLO  {to  TEKZKY). 

Has  he  heard  it  ? 

TERZKY. 

He  has  heard  it. 

ILLO  (to  WALLENSTEIN). 

Thinkest  thou  still 
To  make  thy  peace  with  the  emperor,  to  regain 
His  confidence  ?     E'en  were  it  now  thy  wish 
To  abandon  all  thy  plans,  yet  still  they  know 
What  thou  hast  wished  :  then  forwards  thou  must  press ; 
Retreat  is  now  no  longer  in  thy  power. 

TERZKY. 

They  have  documents  against  us,  and  in  hands, 
Which  show  beyond  all  power  of  contradiction  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Of  my  handwriting  —  no  iota.     Thee 
I  punish,  or  thy  lies. 

ILLO. 

And  thou  believest, 
That  what  this  man,  and  what  thy  sister's  husband, 
Did  in  thy  name,  will  not  stand  on  thy  reckoning  ? 
His  word  must  pass  for  thy  word  with  the  Swede, 
And  not  with  those  that  hate  thee  at  Vienna  ? 

TERZKY. 

In  writing  thou  gavest  nothing ;  but  bethink  thee, 
How  far  thou  venturedst  by  word  of  mouth 


156  THE    DEATH   OF    WALLENSTEIN 

With  this  Sesina !     And  will  he  be  silent  ? 
If  he  can  save  himself  by  yielding  up 
Thy  secret  purposes,  will  he  retain  them  ? 


ILLO. 

Thyself  dost  not  conceive  it  possible ; 
And  since  they  now  have  evidence  authentic 
How  far  thou  hast  already  gone,  speak !  tell  us, 
What  art  thou  waiting  for  ?     Thou  canst  no  longer 
Keep  thy  command ;  and  beyond  hope  of  rescue 
Thou'rt  lost  if  thou  resign'st  it. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

In  the  army 
Lies  my  security.     The  army  will  not 
Abandon  me.     Whatever  they  may  know, 
The  power  is  mine,  and  they  must  gulp  it  down  — 
And  if  I  give  them  caution  for  my  fealty, 
They  must  be  satisfied,  at  least  appear  so. 


ILLO. 

The  army,  duke,  is  thine  now ;  for  this  moment 
'Tis  thine :  but  think  with  terror  on  the  slow, 
The  quiet  power  of  time.     From  open  violence 
The  attachment  of  thy  soldiery  secures  thee 
To-day,  to-morrow :  but  grant'st  thou  them  a  respite, 
Unheard,  unseen,  they'll  undermine  that  love 
On  which  thou  now  dost  feel  so  firm  a  footing, 
With  wily  theft  will  draw  away  from  thee 
One  after  the  other  — 


WALLENSTEIN. 

'Tis  a  cursed  accident ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  157 

ILLO. 

Oh !  I  will  call  it  a  most  blessed  one, 
If  it  work  on  thee  as  it  ought  to  do, 
Hurry  thee  on  to  action  —  to  decision. 
The  Swedish  general  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He's  arrived !     Know'st  thou 
What  his  commission  is  — 


ILLO. 

To  thee  alone 
Will  he  intrust  the  purpose  of  his  coming. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

A  cursed,  cursed  accident !     Yes,  yes, 
Sesina  knows  too  much,  and  won't  be  silent. 

TEKZKY. 

He's  a  Bohemian  fugitive  and  rebel, 
His  neck  is  forfeit.     Can  he  save  himself 
At  thy  cost,  think  you  he  will  scruple  it  ? 
And  if  they  put  him  to  the  torture,  will  he, 
Will  he,  that  dastardling,  have  strength  enough 

wallenstein  (lost  in  thought). 

Their  confidence  is  lost,  irreparably  ! 
And  I  may  act  which  way  I  will,  I  shall 
Be  and  remain  for  ever  in  their  thought 
A  traitor  to  my  country.     How  sincerely 
Soever  I  return  back  to  my  duty, 
It  will  no  longer  help  me  — 


158  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ILLO. 

Ruin  thee, 
That  it  will  do !     Not  thy  fidelity, 
Thy  weakness  will  be  deemed  the  sole  occasion  — 

wallenstein  (pacing  up   and   down  in  extreme 

agitation). 

What !     I  must  realise  it  now  in  earnest, 

Because  I  toyed  too  freely  with  the  thought ! 

Accursed  he  who  dallies  with  a  devil ! 

And  must  I  —  I  must  realise  it  now  — 

Now,  while  I  have  the  power,  it  must  take  place ! 

ILLO. 

Now  —  now  —  ere  they  can  ward  and  parry  it ! 

WALLENSTEIN  (looking  at  the  paper  of  signatures). 

I  have  the  generals'  word  —  a  written  promise  ! 
Max.  Piccolomini  stands  not  here  —  how's  that  ? 

TERZKY. 

It  was  —  he  fancied  — 

ILLO. 

Mere  self-willedness. 
There  needed  no  such  thing  'twixt  him  and  you. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He  is  quite  right ;  there  needed  no  such  thing. 
The  regiments,  too,  deny  to  march  for  Flanders, 
Have  sent  me  in  a  paper  of  remonstrance, 
And  openly  resist  the  imperial  orders. 
The  first  step  to  revolt's  already  taken. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  159 


ILLO. 


Believe  me,  thou  wilt  find  it  far  more  easy 
To  lead  them  over  to  the  enemy 
Than  to  the  Spaniard. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  will  hear,  however, 
What  the  Swede  has  to  say  to  me. 

ILLO  (eagerly  to  terzky). 

Go,  call  him, 
He  stands  without  the  door  in  waiting. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Stay! 
Stay  but  a  little.     It  hath  taken  me 
All  by  surprise ;  it  came  too  quick  upon  me ; 
'Tis  wholly  novel  that  an  accident, 
With  its  dark  lordship,  and  blind  agency, 
Should  force  me  on  with  it. 

ILLO. 

First  hear  him  only, 
And  after  weigh  it.  [Exeunt  Terzky  and  Illo. 


Scene  IV. 

WALLENSTEIN  (in  soliloquy). 

Is  it  possible  ? 
Is't  so  ?     I  can  no  longer  what  I  would  ? 
No  longer  draw  back  at  my  liking  ?     I 
Must  do  the  deed,  because  I  thought  of  it  ? 
And  fed  this  heart  here  with  a  dream  ?     Because 
I  did  not  scowl  temptation  from  my  presence, 


160  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Dallied  with  thoughts  of  possible  fulfilment, 

Commenced  no  movement,  left  all  time  uncertain, 

And  only  kept  the  road,  the  access  open  ? 

By  the  great  God  of  Heaven !  it  was  not 

My  serious  meaning,  it  was  ne'er  resolved. 

I  but  amused  myself  with  thinking  of  it. 

The  free-will  tempted  me,  the  power  to  do 

Or  not  to  do  it.     Was  it  criminal 

To  make  the  fancy  minister  to  hope, 

To  fill  the  air  with  pretty  toys  of  air, 

And  clutch  fantastic  sceptres  moving  toward  me  ? 

Was  not  the  will  kept  free  ?     Beheld  I  not 

The  road  of  duty  close  beside  me  —  but 

One  little  step,  and  once  more  I  was  in  it ! 

Where  am  I  ?     Whither  have  I  been  transported  ? 

No  road,  no  track  behind  me,  but  a  wall, 

Impenetrable,  insurmountable, 

Rises  obedient  to  the  spells  I  muttered 

And  meant  not  —  my  own  doings  tower  behind  me. 

[Pauses  and  remains  in  deep  thought. 
A  punishable  man  I  seem,  the  guilt, 
Try  what  I  will,  I  cannot  roll  off  from  me ; 
The  equivocal  demeanour  of  my  life 
Bears  witness  on  my  prosecutor's  party. 
And  even  my  purest  acts  from  purest  motives 
Suspicion  poisons  with  malicious  gloss. 
Were  I  that  thing  for  which  I  pass,  that  traitor, 
A  goodly  outside  I  had  sure  reserved, 
Had  drawn  the  coverings  thick  and  double  round  me, 
Been  calm  and  chary  of  my  utterance ; 
But  being  conscious  of  the  innocence 
Of  my  intent,  my  uncorrupted  will, 
I  gave  way  to  my  humours,  to  my  passion : 
Bold  were  my  words,  because  my  deeds  were  not. 
Now  every  planless  measure,  chance  event, 
The  threat  of  rage,  the  vaunt  of  joy  and  triumph, 
And  all  the  May-games  of  a  heart  overflowing, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  161 

Will  they  connect,  and  weave  them  all  together 
Into  one  web  of  treason ;  all  will  be  plan, 
My  eye  ne'er  absent  from  the  far-off  mark, 
Step  tracing  step,  each  step  a  politic  progress ; 
And  out  of  all  they'll  fabricate  a  charge 
So  specious,  that  I  must  myself  stand  dumb. 
I  am  caught  in  my  own  net,  and  only  force, 
Naught  but  a  sudden  rent  can  liberate  me. 

[Pauses  again. 
How  else !  since  that  the  heart's  unbiased  instinct 
Impelled  me  to  the  daring  deed,  which  now 
Necessity,  self-preservation,  orders. 
Stern  is  the  on-look  of  necessity, 
Not  without  shudder  may  a  human  hand 
Grasp  the  mysterious  urn  of  destiny. 
My  deed  was  mine,  remaining  in  my  bosom ; 
Once  suffered  to  escape  from  its  safe  corner 
Within  the  heart,  its  nursery  and  birthplace, 
Sent  forth  into  the  foreign,  it  belongs 
Tor  ever  to  those  sly  malicious  powers 
Whom  never  art  of  man  conciliated. 

[Paces  in    agitation    through    the    chamber,  then 

pauses,  and,  after  the  pause,  breaks  out  again 

into  audible  soliloquy. 
What  is  thy  enterprise  ?  thy  aim  ?  thy  object  ? 
Hast  honestly  confessed  it  to  thyself  ? 
Power  seated  on  a  quiet  throne  thou'dst  shake, 
Power  on  an  ancient,  consecrated  throne, 
Strong  in  possession,  founded  in  all  custom ; 
Power  by  a  thousand  tough  and  stringy  roots 
Fixed  to  the  people's  pious  nursery  faith. 
This,  this  will  be  no  strife  of  strength  with  strength. 
That  feared  I  not.     I  brave  each  combatant, 
Whom  I  can  look  on,  fixing  eye  to  eye, 
Who,  full  himself  of  courage,  kindles  courage 
In  me  too.     'Tis  a  foe  invisible 
The  which  I  fear  —  a  fearful  enemy, 


162  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Which  in  the  human  heart  opposes  me, 

By  its  coward  fear  alone  made  fearful  to  me. 

Not  that,  winch  full  of  life,  instinct  with  power, 

Makes  known  its  present  being ;  that  is  not 

The  true,  the  perilously  formidable. 

0  no  !  it  is  the  common,  the  quite  common, 

The  thing  of  an  eternal  yesterday. 

Whatever  was,  and  evermore  returns, 

Sterling  to-morrow,  for  to-day  'twas  sterling ! 

For  of  the  wholly  common  is  man  made, 

And  custom  is  his  nurse  !     Woe  then  to  them 

Who  lay  irreverent  hands  upon  his  old 

House  furniture,  the  dear  inheritance 

From  his  forefathers  !     For  time  consecrates ; 

And  what  is  gray  with  age  becomes  religion. 

Be  in  possession,  and  thou  hast  the  right, 

And  sacred  will  the  many  guard  it  for  thee ! 

[To  the  Page,  who  here  enters. 
The  Swedish  officer  ?     Well,  let  him  enter. 

[TJie  Page  exit,  Wallenstein  fixes  his  eye  in  deep 
thought  on  the  door. 
Yet,  it  is  pure  —  as  yet !  —  the  crime  has  come 
Not  o'er  this  threshold  yet  —  so  slender  is 
The  boundary  that  divideth  life's  two  paths. 


Scene  V. 

Wallenstein  and  Wrangel. 

wallenstein  (after  having  fixed  a  searching  look  on 

him). 
Your  name  is  Wrangel  ? 

WRANGEL. 

Gustave  Wrangel,  General 
Of  the  Sudermanian  Blues. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  163 

WALLENSTEIN. 

It  was  a  Wrangel 
Who  injured  me  materially  at  Stralsund, 
And  by  his  brave  resistance  was  the  cause 
Of  the  opposition  which  that  seaport  made. 

WRANGEL. 

It  was  the  doing  of  the  element 

With  which  you  fought,  my  lord  !  and  not  my  merit. 

The  Baltic  Neptune  did  assert  his  freedom : 

The  sea  and  land,  it  seemed  were  not  to  serve 

One  and  the  same. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You  plucked  the  admiral's  hat  from  off  my  head. 

WRANGEL. 

I  come  to  place  a  diadem  thereon. 

wallenstein   makes  the  motion  for  him  to  take  a  seat, 
and  seats  himself). 

And  where  are  your  credentials  ? 
Come  you  provided  with  full  powers,  sir  general  ? 

WRANGEL. 

There  are  so  many  scruples  yet  to  solve  — 

wallenstein  (having  read  the  credentials). 

An  able  letter  !     Ay  —  he  is  a  prudent, 
Intelligent  master  whom  you  serve,  sir  general ! 
The  chancellor  writes  me  that  he  but  fulfils 
His  late  departed  sovereign's  own  idea 
In  helping  me  to  the  Bohemian  crown. 


164  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 


WRANGEL. 


He  says  the  truth.     Our  great  king,  now  in  heaven, 

Did  ever  deem  most  highly  of  your  grace's 

Preeminent  sense  and  military  genius ; 

And  always  the  commanding  intellect, 

He  said,  should  have  command,  and  be  the  king. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Yes,  he  might  say  it  safely.     General  Wrangel, 

[Taking  his  hand  affectionately. 
Come,  fair  and  open.     Trust  me,  I  was  always 
A  Swede  at  heart.     Eh  !  that  did  you  experience 
Both  in  Silesia  and  at  Nuremberg; 
I  had  you  often  in  my  power,  and  let  you 
Always  slip  out  by  some  back  door  or  other. 
Tis  this  for  which  the  court  can  ne'er  forgive  me, 
Which  drives  me  to  this  present  step :  and  since 
Our  interests  so  run  in  one  direction, 
E'en  let  us  have  a  thorough  confidence 
Each  in  the  other. 

WRANGEL. 

Confidence  will  come 
Has  each  but  only  first  security. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

The  chancellor  still,  I  see,  does  not  quite  trust  me ; 
And,  I  confess  —  the  game  does  not  lie  wholly 
To  my  advantage.     Without  doubt  he  thinks, 
If  I  can  play  false  with  the  emperor, 
Who  is  my  sovereign,  I  can  do  the  like 
With  the  enemy,  and  that  the  one,  too,  were 
Sooner  to  be  forgiven  me  than  the  other. 
Is  not  this  your  opinion,  too,  sir  general  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  165 

WRANGEL. 
I  have  here  a  duty  merely,  no  opinion. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  emperor  hath  urged  me  to  the  uttermost : 

I  can  no  longer  honourably  serve  him. 

For  my  security,  in  self-defence, 

I  take  this  hard  step,  which  my  conscience  blames. 

WEANGEL. 

That  I  believe.     So  far  would  no  one  go 

Who  was  not  forced  to  it.  [After  a  pause. 

What  may  have  impelled 
Your  princely  highness  in  this  wise  to  act 
Toward  your  sovereign  lord  and  emperor, 
Beseems  not  us  to  expound  or  criticise. 
The  Swede  is  fighting  for  his  good  old  cause, 
With   his  good   sword   and  conscience.     This  concur- 
rence, 
This  opportunity  is  in  our  favour, 
And  all  advantages  in  war  are  lawful. 
We  take  what  offers  without  questioning ; 
And  if  all  have  its  due  and  just  proportions  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Of  what  then  are  ye  doubting  ?     Of  my  will  ? 

Or  of  my  power  ?     I  pledged  me  to  the  chancellor, 

Would  he  trust  me  with  sixteen  thousand  men, 

That  I  would  instantly  go  over  to  them 

With  eighteen  thousand  of  the  emperor's  troops. 

WRANGEL. 

Your  grace  is  known  to  be  a  mighty  war-chief, 

To  be  a  second  Attila,  aud  Pyrrhus. 

'Tis  talked  of  still  with  fresh  astonishment, 


166  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

How  some  years  past,  beyond  all  human  faith, 
You  called  an  army  forth  like  a  creation : 
But  yet  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

But  yet  ? 

WRANGEL. 

But  still  the  chancellor  thinks 
It  might  yet  be  an  easier  thing  from  nothing 
To  call  forth  sixty  thousand  men  of  battle, 
Than  to  persuade  one  sixtieth  part  of  them  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  now  ?     Out  with  it,  friend  ? 

WRANGEL. 

To  break  their  oaths. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  he  thinks  so  ?     He  judges  like  a  Swede, 

And  like  a  Protestant.     You  Lutherans 

Fight  for  your  Bible.     You  are  interested 

About  the  cause ;  and  with  your  hearts  you  follow 

Your  banners.     Among  you  whoe'er  deserts 

To  the  enemy  hath  broken  covenant 

With  two  lords  at  one  time.     We've  no  such  fancies. 

WRANGEL. 

Great  God  in  heaven !     Have  then  the  people  here 
No  house  and  home,  no  fireside,  no  altar  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  will  explain  that  to  you,  how  it  stands : 
The  Austrian  has  a  country,  ay,  and  loves  it, 
And  has  good  cause  to  love  it  —  but  this  army 
That  calls  itself  the  imperial,  this  that  houses 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  167 

Here  in  Bohemia,  this  has  none  —  no  country  ; 
This  is  an  outcast  of  all  foreign  lands, 
Unclaimed  by  town  or  tribe,  to  whom  belongs 
Nothing  except  the  universal  sun. 
And  this  Bohemian  land  for  which  we  fight 
Loves  not  the  master  whom  the  chance  of  war, 
Not  its  own  choice  or  will,  hath  given  to  it. 
Men  murmur  at  the  oppression  of  their  conscience, 
And  power  hath  only  awed  but  not  appeased  them. 
A  glowing  and  avenging  memory  lives 
Of  cruel  deeds  committed  on  these  plains ; 
How  can  the  son  forget  that  here  his  father 
Was  hunted  by  the  bloodhound  to  the  mass  ? 
A  people  thus  oppressed  must  still  be  feared, 
Whether  they  suffer  or  avenge  their  wrongs. 

WRANGEL. 

But  then  the  nobles  and  the  officers  ? 
Such  a  desertion,  such  a  felony, 
It  is  without  example,  my  lord  duke, 
In  the  world's  history. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

They  are  all  mine  — 
Mine  unconditionally  —  mine  on  all  terms. 
Not  me,  your  own  eyes  you  must  trust. 

[He  gives  him  the  paper  containing  the  written 
oath.  Wrangel  reads  it  through,  and,  hav- 
ing read  it,  lays  it  on  the  table,  remaining 
silent. 

So  then ; 
Now  comprehend  you  ? 

wrangel. 
Comprehend  who  can ! 


My  lord  duke,  I  will  let  the  mask  drop  —  yes 


! 


1 68  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

I've  full  powers  for  a  final  settlement. 

The  Rhinegrave  stands  but  four  days'  march  from  here 

With  fifteen  thousand  men,  and  only  waits 

For  orders  to  proceed  and  join  your  army. 

These  orders  I  give  out  immediately 

We're  compromised. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  asks  the  chancellor  ? 

wrangel  (considerately). 

Twelve  regiments,  every  man  a  Swede  —  my  head 
The  warranty  —  and  all  might  prove  at  last 
Only  false  play  — 

wallenstein  (starting). 
Sir  Swede ! 

wrangel  (calmly  proceeding). 

Am  therefore  forced 
To  insist  thereon,  that  he  do  formally, 
Irrevocably  break  with  the  emperor, 
Else  not  a  Swede  is  trusted  to  Duke  Friedland. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Come,  brief  and  open  !     What  is  the  demand  ? 

WRANGEL. 

That  he  forthwith  disarm  the  Spanish  regiments 
Attached  to  the  emperor,  that  he  seize  on  Prague, 
And  to  the  Swedes  give  up  that  city,  with 
The  strong  pass  Egra. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  169 

WALLENSTEIN. 

That  is  much  indeed  ! 
Prague !  —  Egra's  granted  —  but  —  but  Prague. 

'Twon't  do. 
I  give  you  every  security 

Which  you  may  ask  of  me  in  common  reason  — 
But  Prague  —  Bohemia  —  these,  sir  general, 
I  can  myself  protect. 

WKANGEL. 

We  doubt  it  not. 
But  'tis  not  the  protection  that  is  now 
Our  sole  concern.     We  want  security, 
That  we  shall  not  expend  our  men  and  money 
All  to  no  purpose. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

'Tis  but  reasonable. 

WEANGEL. 

And  till  we  are  indemnified,  so  long 
Stays  Prague  in  pledge. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Then  trust  you  us  so  little  ? 

WR ANGEL  (rising). 

The  Swede,  if  he  would  treat  well  with  the  German, 
Must  keep  a  sharp  lookout.     We  have  been  called 
Over  the  Baltic,  we  have  saved  the  empire 
From  ruin  —  with  our  best  blood  have  we  sealed 
The  liberty  of  faith  and  gospel  truth. 
But  now  already  is  the  benefaction 
No  longer  felt,  the  load  alone  is  felt. 
Ye  look  askance  with  evil  eye  upon  us, 
As  foreigners,  intruders  in  the  empire, 


170  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

And  would  fain  send  us  with  some  paltry  sum 
Of  money,  home  again  to  our  old  forests. 
No,  no !  my  lord  duke !  it  never  was 
For  Judas'  pay,  for  chinking  gold  and  silver, 
That  we  did  leave  our  king  by  the  Great  Stone. x 
No,  not  for  gold  and  silver  have  there  bled 
So  many  of  our  Swedish  nobles  —  neither 
Will  we,  with  empty  laurels  for  our  payment, 
Hoist  sail  for  our  own  country.     Citizens 
Will  we  remain  upon  the  soil,  the  which 
Our  monarch  conquered  for  himself  and  died. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Help  to  keep  down  the  common  enemy, 
And  the  fair  border  land  must  needs  be  yours. 

WRANGEL. 

But  when  the  common  enemy  lies  vanquished, 

Who  knits  together  our  new  friendship  then  ? 

We  know,  Duke  Friedland !  though  perhaps  the  Swede 

Ought  not  to  have  known  it,  that  you  carry  on 

Secret  negotiations  with  the  Saxons. 

Who  is  our  warranty  that  we  are  not 

The  sacrifices  in  those  articles 

Which  'tis  thought  needful  to  conceal  from  us  ? 

wallenstein  (rises). 

Think  you  of  something  better,  Gustave  Wrangel ! 
Of  Prague  no  more. 

wrangel. 
Here  my  commission  ends. 

1 A  great  stone  near  Liitzen,  since  called  the  Swede's  Stone, 
the  body  of  their  great  king  having  been  found  at  the  foot  of  it, 
after  the  battle  in  which  he  lost  his  life. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  171 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Surrender  up  to  you  my  capital ! 

Far  liever  would  I  force  about,  and  step 

Back  to  my  emperor. 

WRANGEL. 

If  time  yet  permits  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

That  lies  with  me,  even  now,  at  any  hour. 

WRANGEL. 

Some  days  ago,  perhaps.     To-day,  no  longer ; 
No  longer  since  Sesina's  been  a  prisoner. 

[Wallenstein  is  struck,  and  silenced. 
My  lord  duke,  hear  me  —  we  believe  that  you 
At  present  do  mean  honourably  by  us. 
Since  yesterday  we're  sure  of  that  —  and  now 
This  paper  warrants  for  the  troops,  there's  nothing 
Stands  in  the  way  of  our  full  confidence. 
Prague  shall  not  part  us.     Hear !     The  chancellor 
Contents  himself  with  Alstadt ;  to  your  grace 
He  gives  up  Eatschin  and  the  narrow  side. 
But  Egra  above  all  must  open  to  us, 
Ere  we  can  think  of  any  junction. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You, 
You  therefore  must  I  trust,  and  not  you  me  ? 
I  will  consider  of  your  proposition. 

WRANGEL. 

I  must  entreat  that  your  consideration 
Occupy  not  too  long  a  time.  Already 
Has  this  negotiation,  my  lord  duke  ! 


172  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Crept  on  into  the  second  year.     If  nothing 
Is  settled  this  time,  will  the  chancellor 
Consider  it  as  broken  off  for  ever ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Ye  press  me  hard.     A  measure  such  as  this 
Ought  to  be  thought  of. 

WRANGEL. 

Ay  !  but  think  of  this  too, 
That  sudden  action  only  can  procure  it. 
Success  —  think  first  of  this,  your  highness. 

[Exit  Wrangel. 

Scene  VI. 
Wallenstein,  Terzky,  and  Illo  {re-enter). 

ILLO. 

Is't  all  right  ? 

TERZKY. 

Are  you  compromised  ? 

ILLO. 

This  Swede 
Went  smiling  from  you.     Yes  !  you're  compromised. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

As  yet  is  nothing  settled ;  and  (well  weighed) 
I  feel  myself  inclined  to  leave  it  so. 

TERZKY. 

How  ?     What  is  that  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE1N  173 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Come  on  me  what  will  come, 
The  doing  evil  to  avoid  an  evil 
Cannot  be  good ! 

TERZKY. 

Nay,  but  bethink  you,  duke. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

To  live  upon  the  mercy  of  these  Swedes ! 

Of  these  proud-hearted  Swedes !  —  I  could  not  bear  it. 

ILLO. 

Goest  thou  as  fugitive,  as  mendicant  ? 

Bringest  thou  not  more  to  them  than  thou  receivest  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

How  fared  it  with  the  brave  and  royal  Bourbon 
Who  sold  himself  unto  his  country's  foes, 
And  pierced  the  bosom  of  his  fatherland  ? 
Curses  were  his  reward,  and  men's  abhorrence 
Avenged  the  unnatural  and  revolting  deed. 

ILLO. 

Is  that  thy  case  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

True  faith,  I  tell  thee, 
Must  ever  be  the  dearest  friend  of  man : 
His  nature  prompts  him  to  assert  its  rights. 
The  enmity  of  sects,  the  rage  of  parties, 
Long-cherished  envy,  jealousy,  unite  ; 
And  all  the  struggling  elements  of  evil 
Suspend  their  conflict,  and  together  league 
In  one  alliance  'gainst  their  common  foe  — 
The  savage  beast  that  breaks  into  the  fold, 


174  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Where  men  repose  in  confidence  and  peace. 

For  vain  were  man's  own  prudence  to  protect  him. 

Tis  only  in  the  forehead  nature  plants 

The  watchful  eye ;  the  back,  without  defence, 

Must  find  its  shield  in  man's  fidelity. 

TERZKY. 

Think  not  more  meanly  of  thyself  than  do 

Thy  foes,  who  stretch  their  hands  with  joy  to  greet  thee. 

Less  scrupulous  far  was  the  imperial  Charles, 

The  powerful  head  of  this  illustrious  house ; 

With  open  arms  he  gave  the  Bourbon  welcome ; 

For  still  by  policy  the  world  is  ruled. 


Scene  VII. 
To  these  enter  the  Countess  Terzky. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Who  sent  for  you  ?     There  is  no  business  here 
For  women. 

COUNTESS. 

I  am  come  to  bid  you  joy. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Use  thy  authority,  Terzky ;  bid  her  go. 

COUNTESS. 

Come  I  perhaps  too  early  ?     I  hope  not. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Set  not  this  tongue  upon  me,  I  entreat  you : 
You  know  it  is  the  weapon  that  destroys  me. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  175 

I  am  routed,  if  a  woman  but  attack  me : 
I  cannot  traffic  in  the  trade  of  words 
With  that  unreasoning  sex. 


COUNTESS. 

I  had  already 
Given  the  Bohemians  a  king. 

WALLENSTEIN  {sarcastically). 

They  have  one, 
In  consequence,  no  doubt. 

countess  (to  the  others). 

Ha  !  what  new  scruple  ? 

teezky. 
The  duke  will  not. 

COUNTESS. 

He  will  not  what  he  must ! 

ILLO. 

It  lies  with  you  now.     Try.     For  I  am  silenced 
When  folks  begin  to  talk  to  me  of  conscience 
And  of  fidelity. 

COUNTESS. 

How  ?  then,  when  all 
Lay  in  the  far-off  distance,  when  the  road 
Stretched  out  before  thine  eyes  interminably, 
Then  hadst  thou  courage  and  resolve ;  and  now, 
Now  that  the  dream  is  being  realised, 
The  purpose  ripe,  the  issue  ascertained, 
Dost  thou  begin  to  play  the  dastard  now  ? 
Planned  merely,  'tis  a  common  felony ; 
Accomplished,  an  immortal  undertaking : 


176  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

And  with  success  comes  pardon  hand  in  hand, 
For  all  event  is  God's  arbitrament. 


servant  (enters). 
The  Colonel  Piccolomini. 

COUNTESS  (hastily). 
—  Must  wait. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  cannot  see  him  now.     Another  time. 

SERVANT. 

But  for  two  minutes  he  entreats  an  audience : 
Of  the  most  urgent  nature  is  his  business. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Who  knows  what  he  may  bring  us !     I  will  hear  him. 

countess  (laughs). 
Urgent  for  him,  no  doubt  ?  but  thou  may'st  wait. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  is  it  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Thou  shalt  be  informed  hereafter. 
First  let  the  Swede  and  thee  be  compromised. 

[Exit  Servant. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

If  there  were  yet  a  choice !  if  yet  some  milder 
Way  of  escape  were  possible  —  I  still 
Will  choose  it,  and  avoid  the  last  extreme. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  177 

COUNTESS. 

Desirest  thou  nothing  further  ?     Such  a  way 

Lies  still  before  thee.     Send  this  Wrangel  off. 

Forget  thou  thy  old  hopes,  cast  far  away 

All  thy  past  life ;  determine  to  commence 

A  new  one.     Virtue  hath  her  heroes  too, 

As  well  as  fame  and  fortune.     To  Vienna 

Hence  —  to  the  emperor  —  kneel  before  the  throne ; 

Take  a  full  coffer  with  thee  —  say  aloud, 

Thou  didst  but  wish  to  prove  thy  fealty ; 

Thy  whole  intention  but  to  dupe  the  Swede. 

ILLO. 

For  that  too  'tis  too  late.     Thev  know  too  much ; 
He  would  but  bear  his  own  head  to  the  block. 

COUNTESS. 

I  fear  not  that.     They  have  no  evidence 

To  attaint  him  legally,  and  they  avoid 

The  avowal  of  an  arbitrary  power. 

They'll  let  the  duke  resign  without  disturbance. 

I  see  how  all  will  end.     The  King  of  Hungary 

Makes  his  appearance,  and  'twill  of  itself 

Be  understood,  and  then  the  duke  retires. 

There  will  not  want  a  formal  declaration. 

The  young  king  will  administer  the  oath 

To  the  whole  army ;  and  so  all  returns 

To  the  old  position.     On  some  morrow  morning 

The  duke  departs ;  and  now  'tis  stir  and  bustle 

Within  his  castles.     He  will  hunt  and  build ; 

Superintend  his  horses'  pedigrees, 

Creates  himself  a  court,  gives  golden  keys, 

And  introduceth  strictest  ceremony 

In  fine  proportions,  and  nice  etiquette ; 

Keeps  open  table  with  high  cheer :  in  brief, 

Commenceth  mighty  king  —  in  miniature. 


178  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

And  while  he  prudently  demeans  himself, 

And  gives  himself  no  actual  importance, 

He  will  be  let  appear  whate'er  he  likes : 

And  who  dares  doubt,  that  Friedland  will  appear 

A  mighty  prince  to  his  last  dying  hour  ? 

Well  now,  what  then  ?     Duke  Friedland  is  as  others, 

A  fire-new  noble,  whom  the  war  hath  raised 

To  price  and  currency,  a  Jonah's  gourd, 

An  overnight  creation  of  court-favour, 

Which,  with  an  undistinguishable  ease, 

Makes  baron  or  makes  prince. 

WALLENSTEIN  (in  extreme  agitation). 

Take  her  away. 
Let  in  the  young  Count  Piccolomini. 

COUNTESS. 

Art  thou  in  earnest  ?     I  entreat  thee  !     Canst  thou 

Consent  to  bear  thyself  to  thy  own  grave, 

So  ignominiously  to  be  dried  up  ? 

Thy  life,  that  arrogated  such  an  height, 

To  end  in  such  a  nothing !     To  be  nothing, 

When  one  was  always  nothing,  is  an  evil 

That  asks  no  stretch  of  patience,  a  light  evil ; 

But  to  become  a  nothing,  having  been  — 

WALLENSTEIN  (starts  up  in  violent  agitation). 

Show  me  a  way  out  of  this  stifling  crowd, 

Ye  powers  of  aidance !     Show  me  such  a  way 

As  I  am  capable  of  going.     I 

Am  no  tongue-hero,  no  fine  virtue-prattler ; 

I  cannot  warm  by  thinking ;  cannot  say 

To  the  good  luck  that  turns  her  back  upon  me 

Magnanimously  :  "  Go  ;  I  need  thee  not." 

Cease  I  to  work,  I  am  annihilated. 

Dangers  nor  sacrifices  will  I  shun, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  179 

If  so  I  may  avoid  the  last  extreme ; 

But  ere  I  sink  down  into  nothingness, 

Leave  off  so  little,  who  began  so  great, 

Ere  that  the  world  confuses  me  with  those 

Poor  wretches,  whom  a  day  creates  and  crumbles, 

This  age  and  after  ages  1  speak  my  name 

With  hate  and  dread ;  and  Friedland  be  redemption 

For  each  accursed  deed. 

COUNTESS. 

What  is  there  here,  then, 
So  against  nature  ?     Help  me  to  perceive  it ! 
Oh,  let  not  superstition's  nightly  goblins 
Subdue  thy  clear,  bright  spirit !     Art  thou  bid 
To  murder  ?  with  abhorred,  accursed  poniard, 
To  violate  the  breasts  that  nourish  thee  ? 
That  were  against  our  nature,  that  might  aptly 
Make  thy  flesh  shudder,  and  thy  whole  heart  sicken.2 
Yet  not  a  few,  and  for  a  meaner  object, 
Have  ventured  even  this,  ay,  and  performed  it. 
What  is  there  in  thy  case  so  black  and  monstrous  ? 
Thou  art  accused  of  treason  —  whether  with 
Or  without  justice  is  not  now  the  question  — 
Thou  art  lost  if  thou  dost  not  avail  thee  quickly 
Of    the   power    which    thou    possessest  —  Friedland ! 

Duke! 
Tell  me  where  lives  that  thing  so  meek  and  tame, 
That  doth  not  all  his  living  faculties 
Put  forth  in  preservation  of  his  life  ? 


1  Could  I  have  hazarded  such  a  Germanism  as  the  use  of  the 
word  afterworld  for  posterity,  "  Es  spreche  Welt  und  Nachwelt 
meinen  Namen"  might  have  been  rendered  with  more  literal 
fidelity  :  Let  world  and  afterworld  speak  out  my  name,  etc. 

2 1  have  not  ventured  to  affront  the  fastidious  delicacy  of  our 
age  with  a  literal  translation  of  this  line, — 

werth 
Die  Eingeweide  schaudernd  aufzuregen. 


180  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE1N 

What  deed  so  daring,  which  necessity 
And  desperation  will  not  sanctify  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Once  was  this  Ferdinand  so  gracious  to  me ; 

He  loved  me  ;  he  esteemed  me ;  I  was  placed 

The  nearest  to  his  heart.     Full  many  a  time 

We  like  familiar  friends,  both  at  one  table, 

Have  banqueted  together  —  he  and  I ; 

And  the  young  kings  themselves  held  me  the  basin 

Wherewith  to  wash  me  —  and  is't  come  to  this  ? 

COUNTESS. 

So  faithfully  preservest  thou  each  small  favour, 

And  hast  no  memory  for  contumelies  ? 

Must  I  remind  thee,  how  at  Regensburg 

This  man  repaid  thy  faithful  services  ? 

All  ranks  and  all  conditions  in  the  empire 

Thou  hadst  wronged  to  make  him  great,  —  hadst  loaded 

on  thee, 
On  thee,  the  hate,  the  curse  of  the  whole  world. 
No  friend  existed  for  thee  in  all  Germany, 
And  why  ?  because  thou  hadst  existed  only 
For  the  emperor.     To  the  emperor  alone 
Clung  Friedland  in  that  storm  which  gathered  round  him 
At  Kegensburg  in  the  Diet  —  and  he  dropped  thee  ! 
He  let  thee  fall !  he  let  thee  fall  a  victim 
To  the  Bavarian,  to  that  insolent ! 
Deposed,  stripped  bare  of  all  thy  dignity 
And  power,  amid  the  taunting  of  thy  foe 
Thou  wert  let  drop  into  obscurity. 
Say  not,  the  restoration  of  thy  honour 
Has  made  atonement  for  that  first  in  justice. 
No  honest  good- will  was  it  that  replaced  thee  ; 
The  law  of  hard  necessity  replaced  thee, 
Which  they  had  fain  opposed,  but  that  they  could  not. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  181 


WALLENSTEIN. 


Not  to  their  good  wishes,  that  is  certain, 
Nor  yet  to  his  affection  I'm  indebted 
For  this  high  office ;  and  if  I  abuse  it, 
I  shall  therein  abuse  no  confidence. 


COUNTESS. 

Affection  !  confidence  !  —  they  needed  thee. 

Necessity,  impetuous  remonstrant ! 

Who  not  with  empty  names,  or  shows  of  proxy, 

Is  served,  who'll  have  the  thing  and  not  the  symbol, 

Ever  seeks  out  the  greatest  and  the  best, 

And  at  the  rudder  places  him,  e'en  though 

She  had  been  forced  to  take  him  from  the  rabble  — 

She,  this  necessity,  it  was  that  placed  thee 

In  this  high  office ;  it  was  she  that  gave  thee 

Thy  letters-patent  of  inauguration. 

For,  to  the  uttermost  moment  that  they  can, 

This  race  still  help  themselves  at  cheapest  rate 

With  slavish  souls,  with  puppets !     At  the  approach 

Of  extreme  peril,  when  a  hollow  image 

Is  found  a  hollow  image  and  no  more, 

Then  falls  the  power  into  the  mighty  hands 

Of  nature,  of  the  spirit-giant  born, 

Who  listens  only  to  himself,  knows  nothing 

Of  stipulations,  duties,  reverences, 

And,  like  the  emancipated  force  of  fire, 

Unmastered  scorches,  ere  it  reaches  them, 

Their  fine-spun  webs,  their  artificial  policy. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

'Tis  true  !  they  saw  me  always  as  I  am  — 
Always !  I  did  not  cheat  them  in  the  bargain. 
I  never  held  it  worth  my  pains  to  hide 
The  bold  all-grasping  habit  of  my  soul. 


1 82  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

COUNTESS. 

Nay  rather  —  thou  hast  ever  shown  thyself 

A  formidable  man,  without  restraint ; 

Hast  exercised  the  full  prerogatives 

Of  thy  impetuous  nature,  which  had  been 

Once  granted  to  thee.     Therefore,  duke,  not  thou, 

Who  hast  still  remained  consistent  with  thyself, 

But  they  are  in  the  wrong,  who,  fearing  thee, 

Intrusted  such  a  power  in  hands  they  feared. 

For,  by  the  laws  of  spirit,  in  the  right 

Is  every  individual  character 

That  acts  in  strict  consistence  with  itself : 

Self-contradiction  is  the  only  wrong. 

Wert  thou  another  being,  then,  when  thou 

Eight  years  ago  pursuedst  thy  march  with  fire, 

And  sword,  and  desolation,  through  the  circles 

Of  Germany,  the  universal  scourge, 

Didst  mock  all  ordinances  of  the  empire, 

The  fearful  rights  of  strength  alone  exertedst, 

Trampledst  to  earth  each  rank,  each  magistracy, 

All  to  extend  thy  Sultan's  domination  ? 

Then  was  the  time  to  break  thee  in,  to  curb 

Thy  haughty  will,  to  teach  thee  ordinance. 

But  no,  the  emperor  felt  no  touch  of  conscience ; 

What  served  him  pleased  him,  and  without  a  murmur 

He  stamped  his  broad  seal  on  these  lawless  deeds. 

What  at  that  time  was  right,  because  thou  didst  it 

For  him,  to-day  is  all  at  once  become 

Opprobrious,  foul,  because  it  is  directed 

Against  Mm.     0  most  flimsy  superstition  ! 

wallenstein  (rising). 

I  never  saw  it  in  this  light  before, 
'Tis  even  so.     The  emperor  perpetrated 
Deeds  through  my  arm,  deeds  most  unorderly. 
And  even  this  prince's  mantle,  which  I  wear, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  183 

I  owe  to  what  were  services  to  him, 

But  most  high  misdemeanours  'gainst  the  empire. 

COUNTESS. 

Then  betwixt  thee  and  him  (confess  it,  Friedland ! ) 

The  point  can  be  no  more  of  right  and  duty, 

Only  of  power  and  the  opportunity. 

That  opportunity,  lo !  it  comes  yonder 

Approaching  with  swift  steeds ;  then  with  a  swing 

Throw  thyself  up  into  the  chariot-seat, 

Seize  with  firm  hand  the  reins  ere  thy  opponent 

Anticipate  thee,  and  himself  make  conquest 

Of  the  now  empty  seat.     The  moment  comes ; 

It  is  already  here,  when  thou  must  write 

The  absolute  total  of  thy  life's  vast  sum. 

The  constellations  stand  victorious  o'er  thee, 

The  planets  shoot  good  fortune  in  fair  junctions, 

And  tell  thee,  "  Now's  the  time  ! "     The  starry  courses 

Hast  thou  thy  life  long  measured  to  no  purpose  ? 

The  quadrant  and  the  circle,  were  they  playthings  ? 

[Pointing  to  the  different  objects  in  the  room. 
The  zodiacs,  the  rolling  orbs  of  heaven, 
Hast  pictured  on  these  walls  and  all  around  thee. 
In  dumb,  foreboding  symbols  hast  thou  placed 
These  seven  presiding  lords  of  destiny  — 
For  toys  ?     Is  all  this  preparation  nothing  ? 
Is  there  no  marrow  in  this  hollow  art, 
That  even  to  thyself  it  doth  avail 
Nothing,  and  has  no  influence  over  thee 
In  the  great  moment  of  decision  ? 

wallenstein  {during  this  last  speech  walks  up  and 
down  with  inward  struggles,  labouring  with  pas- 
sion ;  stops  suddenly,  stands  still,  then  interrupt- 
ing the  countess). 

Send  Wrangel  to  me  —  I  will  instantly 
Despatch  three  couriers  — 


184  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ILLO  (hurrying  out). 
God  in  heaven  be  praised ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

It  is  his  evil  genius  and  mine. 

Our  evil  genius !     It  chastises  him 

Through  me,  the  instrument  of  his  ambition ; 

And  I  expect  no  less,  than  that  revenge 

E'en  now  is  whetting  for  my  breast  the  poniard. 

Who  sows  the  serpent's  teeth  let  him  not  hope 

To  reap  a  joyous  harvest.     Every  crime 

Has,  in  the  moment  of  its  perpetration, 

Its  own  avenging  angel  —  dark  misgiving, 

An  ominous  sinking  at  the  inmost  heart. 

He  can  no  longer  trust  me.     Then  no  longer 

Can  I  retreat  —  so  come  that  which  must  come. 

Still  destiny  preserves  its  due  relations, 

The  heart  within  us  is  its  absolute 

Vicegerent.  [To  Terzky. 

Go,  conduct  you  Gustave  Wrangel 
To  my  state  cabinet.     Myself  will  speak  to 
The  couriers.     And  despatch  immediately 
A  servant  for  Octavio  Piccolomini. 

[To  the  Countess,  ivho  cannot  conceal  her  triumph. 
No  exultation  !  woman,  triumph  not ! 
For  jealous  are  the  powers  of  destiny, 
Joy  premature,  and  shouts  ere  victory, 
Encroach  upon  their  rights  and  privileges. 
We  sow  the  seed,  and  they  the  growth  determine. 

[  While  he  is  making  his  exit  the  curtain  drops. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  185 

ACT    II. 

Scene  I. 

Scene  as  in  the  preceding  Act. 

Wallenstein,  Octavio  Piccolomini. 

WALLENSTEIN  (coming  forward  in  conversation). 

He  sends  me  word  from  Linz  that  he  lies  sick ; 

But  I  have  sure  intelligence  that  he 

Secretes  himself  at  Frauenberg  with  Gallas. 

Secure  them  both,  and  send  them  to  me  hither. 

Eemember,  thou  takest  on  thee  the  command 

Of  those  same  Spanish   regiments,  —  constantly 

Make  preparation,  and  be  never  ready ; 

And  if  they  urge  thee  to  draw  out  against  me, 

Still  answer  yes,  and  stand  as  thou  wert  fettered. 

I  know  that  it  is  doing  thee  a  service 

To  keep  thee  out  of  action  in  this  business. 

Thou  lovest  to  linger  on  in  fair  appearances ; 

Steps  of  extremity  are  not  thy  province, 

Therefore  have  I  sought  out  this  part  for  thee. 

Thou  wilt  this  time  be  of  most  service  to  me 

By  thy  inertness.     The  meantime,  if  fortune 

Declare  itself  on  my  side,  thou  wilt  know 

What  is  to  do.  [Enter  Max.  Piccolomini 

Now  go,  Octavio. 
This  night  must  thou  be  off,  take  my  own  horses : 
Him  here  I  keep  with  me  —  make  short  farewell  — 
Trust  me,  I  think  we  all  shall  meet  again 
In  joy  and  thriving  fortunes. 

Octavio  (to  his  son). 

I  shall  see  you 
Yet  ere  I  go. 


186  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Scene  II. 

Wallenstein,  Max.  Piccolomini. 

max.  {advances  to  him). 
My  general ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

That  I  am  no  longer,  if 
Thou  stylest  thyself  the  emperor's  officer. 

MAX. 

Then  thou  will  leave  the  army,  general  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  have  renounced  the  service  of  the  emperor. 

MAX. 

And  thou  wilt  leave  the  army  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Rather  hope  I 
To  bind  it  nearer  still  and  faster  to  me. 

[He  seats  himself. 
Yes,  Max.,  I  have  delayed  to  open  it  to  thee, 
Even  till  the  hour  of  acting  'gins  to  strike. 
Youth's  fortunate  feeling  doth  seize  easily 
The  absolute  right,  yea,  and  a  joy  it  is 
To  exercise  the  single  apprehension 
Where  the  sums  square  in  proof ; 
But  where  it  happens,  that  of  two  sure  evils 
One  must  be  taken,  where  the  heart  not  wholly 
Brings  itself  back  from  out  the  strife  of  duties, 
There  'tis  a  blessing  to  have  no  election, 
And  blank  necessity  is  grace  and  favour. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  187 

This  is  now  present :  do  not  look  behind  thee,  — 

It  can  no  more  avail  thee.     Look  thou  forwards ! 

Think  not !  judge  not !  prepare  thyself  to  act ! 

The  court  —  it  hath  determined  on  my  ruin, 

Therefore  I  will  be  beforehand  with  them. 

We'll  join  the  Swedes  —  right  gallant  fellows  are  they, 

And  our  good  friends. 

[He  stops  himself,  expecting  Piccolomini's  answer. 

I  have  taken  thee  by  surprise.     Answer  me  not : 

I  grant  thee  time  to  recollect  thyself. 

[He  rises,  retires  to  the  back  of  the  stage.  Max. 
remains  for  a  long  time  motionless,  in  a 
trance  of  excessive  anguish.  At  his  first 
motion  Wallenstein  returns,  and  places 
himself  before  him. 


MAX. 

My  general,  this  day  thou  makest  me 
Of  age  to  speak  in  my  own  right  and  person, 
For  till  this  day  I  have  been  spared  the  trouble 
To  find  out  my  own  road.     Thee  have  I  followed 
With  most  implicit,  unconditional  faith, 
Sure  of  the  right  path  if  I  followed  thee. 
To-day,  for  the  first  time,  dost  thou  refer 
Me  to  myself,  and  forcest  me  to  make 
Election  between  thee  and  my  own  heart. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Soft  cradled  thee  thy  fortune  till  to-day ; 

Thy  duties  thou  couldst  exercise  in  sport, 

Indulge  all  lovely  instincts,  act  for  ever 

With  undivided  heart.     It  can  remain 

No  longer  thus.     Like  enemies,  the  roads 

Start  from  each  other.     Duties  strive  with  duties, 

Thou  must  needs  choose  thy  party  in  the  war 


188  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Which  is  now  kindling  'twixt  thy  friend  and  him 
Who  is  thy  emperor. 

MAX. 

War  !  is  that  the  name  ? 
War  is  as  frightful  as  heaven's  pestilence, 
Yet  it  is  good,  is  it  heaven's  will  as  that  is. 
Is  that  a  good  war,  which  against  the  emperor 
Thou  wagest  with  the  emperor's  own  army  ? 
O  God  of  heaven !  what  a  change  is  this. 
Beseems  it  me  to  offer  such  persuasion 
To  thee,  who  like  the  fixed  star  of  the  pole 
Wert  all  I  gazed  at  on  life's  trackless  ocean  ? 
O  !  what  a  rent  thou  makest  in  my  heart ! 
The  ingrained  instinct  of  old  reverence, 
The  holy  habit  of  obediency, 
Must  I  pluck  life  asunder  from  thy  name  ? 
Nay,  do  not  turn  thy  countenance  upon  me  — 
It  always  was  as  a  god  looking  upon  me ! 
Duke  Wallenstein,  its  power  has  not  departed ; 
The  senses  still  are  in  thy  bonds,  although 
Bleeding,  the  soul  hath  freed  itself. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Max.,  hear  me, 

MAX. 

Oh,  do  it  not,  I  pray  thee,  do  it  not ! 
There  is  a  pure  and  noble  soul  within  thee, 
Knows  not  of  this  unblest  unlucky  doing. 
Thy  will  is  chaste,  it  is  thy  fancy  only 
Which  hath  polluted  thee  —  and  innocence, 
It  will  not  let  itself  be  driven  away 
From  that  world-awing  aspect.     Thou  wilt  not, 
Thou  canst  not  end  in  this.     It  would  reduce 
All  human  creatures  to  disloyalty 
Against  the  nobleness  of  their  own  nature. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  189 

'Twill  justify  the  vulgar  misbelief, 
Which  holdeth  nothing  noble  in  free  will, 
And  trusts  itself  to  impotence  alone, 
Made  powerful  only  in  an  unknown  power. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  world  will  judge  me  harshly,  I  expect  it. 
Already  have  I  said  to  my  own  self 
All  thou  canst  say  to  me.     Who  but  avoids 
The  extreme,  can  he  by  going  round  avoid  it  ? 
But  here  there  is  no  choice.     Yes,  I  must  use 
Or  suffer  violence  —  so  stands  the  case ; 
There  remains  nothing  possible  but  that. 

MAX. 

Oh,  that  is  never  possible  for  thee ! 

'Tis  the  last  desperate  resource  of  those 

Cheap  souls,  to  whom  their  honour,  their  good  name, 

Is  their  poor  saving,  their  last  worthless  keep, 

Which,  having  staked  and  lost,  they  staked  themselves 

In  the  mad  rage  of  gaming.     Thou  art  rich 

And  glorious ;  with  an  unpolluted  heart 

Thou  canst  make  conquest  of  whate'er  seems  highest ! 

But  he  who  once  hath  acted  infamy 

Does  nothing  more  in  this  world. 

WALLENSTEIN  (grasps  his  hand). 

Calmly,  Max. ! 
Much  that  is  great  and  excellent  will  we 
Perform  together  yet.     And  if  we  only 
Stand  on  the  height  with  dignity,  'tis  soon 
Forgotten,  Max.,  by  what  road  we  ascended. 
Believe  me,  many  a  crown  shines  spotless  now, 
That  yet  was  deeply  sullied  in  the  winning. 
To  the  evil  spirit  doth  the  earth  belong, 
Not  to  the  good.     All  that  the  powers  divine 


igo  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Send  from  above  are  universal  blessings  : 

Their  light  rejoices  us,  their  air  refreshes, 

But  never  yet  was  man  enriched  by  them : 

In  their  eternal  realm  no  property 

Is  to  be  struggled  for  —  all  there  is  general. 

The  jewel,  the  all-valued  gold  we  win 

From  the  deceiving  powers,  depraved  in  nature, 

That  dwell  beneath  the  day  and  blessed  sunlight. 

Not  without  sacrifices  are  they  rendered 

Propitious,  and  there  lives  no  soul  on  earth 

That  e'er  retired  unsullied  from  their  service. 


MAX. 

Whate'er  is  human  to  the  human  being 

Do  I  allow  —  and  to  the  vehement 

And  striving  spirit  readily  I  pardon 

The  excess  of  action  ;  but  to  thee,  my  general ! 

Above  all  others  make  I  large  concession. 

For  thou  must  move  a  world  and  be  the  master  — 

He  kills  thee  who  condemns  thee  to  inaction. 

So  be  it  then !  maintain  thee  in  thy  post 

By  violence.     Besist  the  emperor, 

And  if  it  must  be  force  with  force  repel ; 

I  will  not  praise  it,  yet  I  can  forgive  it. 

But  not  —  not  to  the  traitor  —  yes  !  the  word 

Is  spoken  out  — 

Not  to  the  traitor  can  I  yield  a  pardon. 

That  is  no  mere  excess !  that  is  no  error 

Of  human  nature  —  that  is  wholly  different. 

Oh,  that  is  black,  black  as  the  pit  of  hell ! 

[Wallenstein  betrays  a  sudden  agitation. 
Thou  canst  not  hear  it  named,  and  wilt  thou  do  it  ? 

0  turn  back  to  thy  duty.     That  thou  canst, 

1  hold  it  certain.     Send  me  to  Vienna ; 

I'll  make  thy  peace  for  thee  with  the  emperor. 
He  knows  thee  not.     But  I  do  know  thee.     He 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  191 

Shall  see  thee,  duke !  with  my  unclouded  eye, 
And  I  bring  back  his  confidence  to  thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

It  is  too  late !     Thou  knowest  not  what  has  happened. 

MAX. 

Were  it  too  late,  and  were  things  gone  so  far, 
That  a  crime  only  could  prevent  thy  fall, 
Then  —  fall !   fall  honourably,  even  as  thou  stoodest. 
Lose  the  command.     Go  from  the  stage  of  war ! 
Thou  canst  with  splendour  do  it  —  do  it  too 
With  innocence.     Thou  hast  lived  much  for  others, 
At  length  live  thou  for  thy  own  self.     I  follow  thee. 
My  destiny  I  never  part  from  thine. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

It  is  too  late !     Even  now,  while  thou  art  losing 
Thy  words,  one  after  another,  are  the  mile-stones 
Left  fast  behind  by  my  post  couriers, 
Who  bear  the  order  on  to  Prague  and  Eger. 

[Max.   stands   as   convulsed,  with  a  gesture   and 
countenance  expressing  the  most  intense  an- 
guish. 
Yield  thyself  to  it.     We  act  as  we  are  forced. 
I  cannot  give  assent  to  my  own  shame 
And  ruin.     Thou  —  no  —  thou  canst  not  forsake  me  ! 
So  let  us  do,  what  must  be  done,  with  dignity, 
With  a  firm  step.     What  am  I  doing  worse 
Than  did  famed  Csesar  at  the  Eubicon, 
When  he  the  legions  led  against  his  country, 
The  which  his  country  had  delivered  to  him  ? 
Had  he  thrown  down  the  sword,  he  had  been  lost. 
As  I  were,  if  I  but  disarmed  myself. 


192  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

I  trace  out  something  in  me  of  this  spirit. 

Give  me  his  luck,  that  other  thing  I'll  bear. 

[Max.  quits  him  abruptly.  Wallenstein,  startled 
and  overpowered,  continues  looking  after  him, 
and  is  still  in  this  posture  when  Terzky 
enters. 

Scene  III. 

Wallenstein,  Terzky. 

terzky. 
Max.  Piccolomini  just  left  you  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Where  is  Wrangel  ? 

TERZKY. 

He  is  already  gone. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

In  such  a  hurry  ? 

TERZKY. 

It  is  as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed  him. 

He  had  scarce  left  thee,  when  I  went  to  seek  him. 

I  wished  some  words  with  him  —  but  he  was  gone. 

How,  when,  and  where,  could  no  one  tell  me.     Nay, 

I  half  believe  it  was  the  devil  himself ; 

A  human  creature  could  not  so  at  once 

Have  vanished. 

illo  (enters). 

Is  it  true  that  thou  wilt  send 
Octavio  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  193 

TERZKY. 

How,  Octavio !     Whither  send  him  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He  goes  to  Frauenburg,  and  will  lead  hither 
The  Spanish  and  Italian  regiments. 

ILLO. 

No! 
Nay,  heaven  forbid ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  why  should  heaven  forbid  ? 

ILLO. 

Him  !  —  that  deceiver  !     Wouldst  thou  trust  to  him 
The  soldiery  ?     Him  wilt  thou  let  slip  from  thee, 
Now  in  the  very  instant  that  decides  us  — 

TERZKY. 

Thou  wilt  not  do  this  !     No  !     I  pray  thee,  no ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Ye  are  whimsical. 

ILLO. 

0  but  for  this  time,  duke, 
Yield  to  our  warning  !     Let  him  not  depart. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  why  should  I  not  trust  him  only  this  time, 
Who    have    always   trusted   him  ?     What,   then,   has 

happened 
That  I  should  lose  my  good  opinion  of  him  ? 


194  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

In  complaisance  to  your  whims,  not  my  own, 
I  must,  forsooth,  give  up  a  rooted  judgment. 
Think  not  I  am  a  woman.     Having  trusted  him 
E'en  till  to-day,  to-day  too  will  I  trust  him. 

TERZKY. 

Must  it  be  he  —  he  only  ?     Send  another. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

It  must  be  he,  whom  I  myself  have  chosen ; 
He  is  well  fitted  for  the  business.     Therefore 
I  gave  it  him. 

ILLO. 

Because  he's  an  Italian  — 
Therefore  is  he  well  fitted  for  the  business ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  know  you  love  them  not,  nor  sire  nor  son, 

Because  that  I  esteem  them,  love  them,  visibly 

Esteem  them,  love  them  more  than  you  and  others, 

E'en  as  they  merit.     Therefore  are  they  eye-blights, 

Thorns  in  your  footpath.     But  your  jealousies, 

In  what  affect  they  me  or  my  concerns  ? 

Are  they  the  worse  to  me  because  you  hate  them  ? 

Love  or  hate  one  another  as  you  will, 

I  leave  to  each  man  his  own  moods  and  likings ; 

Yet  know  the  worth  of  each  of  you  to  me. 

ILLO. 

Von  Questenberg,  while  he  was  here,  was  always 
Lurking  about  with  this  Octavio. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

It  happened  with  my  knowledge  and  permission. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  195 

ILLO. 

I  know  that  secret  messengers  came  to  him 
From  Gallas  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

That's  not  true. 

ILLO. 

O  thou  art  blind, 
With  thy  deep-seeing  eyes  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thou  wilt  not  shake 
My  faith  for  me ;  my  faith,  which  founds  itself 
On  the  profoundest  science.     If  'tis  false, 
Then  the  whole  science  of  the  stars  is  false ; 
For  know,  I  have  a  pledge  from  Fate  itself, 
That  he  is  the  most  faithful  of  my  friends. 

ILLO. 

Hast  thou  a  pledge  that  this  pledge  is  not  false  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

There  exist  moments  in  the  life  of  man, 

When  he  is  nearer  the  great  Soul  of  the  world 

Than  is  man's  custom,  and  possesses  freely 

The  power  of  questioning  his  destiny : 

And  such  a  moment  'twas,  when  in  the  night 

Before  the  action  in  the  plains  of  Liitzen, 

Leaning  against  a  tree,  thoughts  crowding  thoughts, 

I  looked  out  far  upon  the  ominous  plain. 

My  whole  life,  past  and  future,  in  this  moment 

Before  my  mind's  eye  glided  in  procession, 

And  to  the  destiny  of  the  next  morning 

The  spirit,  filled  with  anxious  presentiment, 

Did  knit  the  most  removed  futurity. 


196  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Then  said  I  also  to  myself,  "  So  many- 
Dost  thou  command.     They  follow  all  thy  stars, 
And  as  on  some  great  number  set  their  all 
Upon  thy  single  head,  and  only  man 
The  vessel  of  thy  fortune.     Yet  a  day 
Will  come,  when  destiny  shall  once  more  scatter 
All  these  in  many  a  several  direction : 
Few  be  they  who  will  stand  out  faithful  to  thee." 
I  yearned  to  know  which  one  was  faithfulest 
Of  all,  this  camp  included.     Great  destiny, 
Give  me  a  sign !     And  he  shall  be  the  man, 
Who,  on  the  approaching  morning,  comes  the  first 
To  meet  me  with  a  token  of  his  love : 
And  thinking  this,  I  fell  into  a  slumber, 
Then  midmost  in  the  battle  was  I  led 
In  spirit.     Great  the  pressure  and  the  tumult ! 
Then  was  my  horse  killed  under  me :  I  sank ; 
And  over  me  away,  all  unconcernedly, 
Drove  horse  and  rider  —  and  thus  trod  to  pieces 
I  lay,  and  panted  like  a  dying  man ; 
Then  seized  me  suddenly  a  saviour  arm ; 
It  was  Octavio's  —  I  woke  at  once, 
'Twas  broad  day,  and  Octavio  stood  before  me. 
"  My  brother,"  said  he,  "  do  not  ride  to-day 
The  dapple,  as  your  wont ;  but  mount  the  horse 
Which  I  have  chosen  for  thee.     Do  it,  brother ! 
In    love    to     me.       A     strong     dream     warned     me 

so." 
It    was    the    swiftness    of    this    horse    that    snatched 

me 
From  the  hot  pursuit  of  Bannier's  dragoons. 
My  cousin  rode  the  dapple  on  that  day, 
And  never  more  saw  I  or  horse  or  rider. 


ILLO. 

That  was  a  chance. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  197 

wallenstein  (significantly). 

There's  no  such  thing  as  chance, 
And  what  to  us  seems  merest  accident 
Springs  from  the  deepest  source  of  destiny. 
In  brief,  'tis  signed  and  sealed  that  this  Octavio 
Is  my  good  angel  —  and  now  no  word  more. 

[He  is  retiring. 

TERZKY. 

This  is  my  comfort  —  Max.  remains  our  hostage. 

ILLO. 

And  he  shall  never  stir  from  here  alive. 

wallenstein  (stops  and  turns  himself  around). 

Are  ye  not  like  the  women,  who  for  ever 

Only  recur  to  their  first  word,  although 

One  had  been  talking  reason  by  the  hour ! 

Know,  that  the  human  being's  thoughts  and  deeds 

Are  not  like  ocean  billows,  blindly  moved. 

The  inner  world,  his  microcosmus,  is 

The  deep  shaft,  out  of  which  they  spring  eternally. 

They  grow  by  certain  laws,  like  the  tree's  fruit  — 

No  juggling  chance  can  metamorphose  them. 

Have  I  the  human  kernel  first  examined  ? 

Then  I  know,  too,  the  future  will  and  action.    [Exeunt 


Scene  IV. 

Chamber  in  the  residence  of  Piccolo-mini  :  Octavio  Pic- 
colomini  (attired  for  travelling),  an  Adjutant. 

OCTAVIO. 

Is  the  detachment  here  ? 


198  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ADJUTANT. 

It  waits  below. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  are  the  soldiers  trusty,  adjutant  ? 

Say,  from  what  regiment  hast  thou  chosen  them  ? 

ADJUTANT. 

From  Tiefenbach's. 

OCTAVIO. 

That  regiment  is  loyal, 
Keep  them  in  silence  in  the  inner  court, 
Unseen  by  all,  and  when  the  signal  peals 
Then  close  the  doors,  keep  watch  upon  the  house. 
And  all  ye  meet  be  instantly  arrested.  \Exit  Adjutant. 
I  hope  indeed  I  shall  not  need  their  service, 
So  certain  feel  I  of  my  well-laid  plans ; 
But  when  an  empire's  safety  is  at  stake 
'Twere  better  too  much  caution  than  too  little. 

Scene  V. 

A  chamber  in  Piccolomini's  dwelling-house :  Octavio 
Piccolomini,  Isolani,  entering. 

ISOLANI. 

Here  am  I  —  well !  who  comes  yet  of  the  others  ? 

OCTAVIO  (with  an  air  of  mystery). 
But,  first,  a  word  with  you,  Count  Isolani. 

ISOLANI  {assuming  the  same  air  of  mystery). 

Will  it  explode,  ha  ?     Is  the  duke  about 

To  make  the  attempt  ?     In  me,  friend,  you  may  place 

Full  confidence  —  nay,  put  me  to  the  proof. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  199 

OCTAVIO. 

That  may  happen. 

ISOLANI. 

Noble  brother,  I  am 
Not  one  of  those  men  who  in  words  are  valiant, 
And  when  it  comes  to  action  skulk  away. 
The  duke  has  acted  toward  me  as  a  friend : 
God  knows  it  is  so ;  and  I  owe  him  all ; 
He  may  rely  on  my  fidelity. 

OCTAVIO. 

That  will  be  seen  hereafter. 

ISOLANI. 

Be  on  your  guard, 
All  think  not  as  I  think ;  and  there  are  many 
Who  still  hold  with  the  court  —  yes,  and  they  say 
That  these  stolen  signatures  bind  them  to  nothing. 

OCTAVIO. 

Indeed !     Pray  name  to  me  the  chiefs  that  think  so. 

ISOLANI. 

Plague  upon  them !  all  the  Germans  think  so. 
Esterhazy,  Kaunitz,  Deodati,  too, 
Insist  upon  obedience  to  the  court. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it. 

ISOLANI. 

You  rejoice? 


200  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

OCTAVIO. 

That  the  emperor  has  yet  such  gallant  servants, 
And  loving  friends. 

ISOLANI. 

Nay,  jeer  not,  I  entreat  you. 
They  are  no  such  worthless  fellows,  I  assure  you. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  am  assured  already.     God  forbid 

That  I  should  jest !     In  very  serious  earnest, 

I  am  rejoiced  to  see  an  honest  cause 

So  strong. 

ISOLANI. 

The  devil !  —  what !  —  why,  what  means  this  ? 
Are  you  not,  then  —  For  what,  then,  am  I  here  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

That  you  may  make  full  declaration,  whether 
You  will  be  called  the  friend  or  enemy 
Of  the  emperor. 

isolani  (with  an  air  of  defiance). 

That  declaration,  friend, 
I'll  make  to  him  in  whom  a  right  is  placed 
To  put  that  question  to  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

Whether,  count, 
That  right  is  mine,  this  paper  may  instruct  you. 

ISOLANI  (stammering). 

Why,  —  why  —  what !  this  is  the  emperor's  hand  and 
seal  [Beads. 

"  Whereas  the  officers  collectively 
Throughout  our  army  will  obey  the  orders 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  201 

Of  the  Lieutenant-General  Piccolomini, 

As  from  ourselves."  —  Hem  !  —  Yes  !  so  !  —  Yes  !  yes  ! 

I  —  I  give  you  joy,  lieutenant-general ! 

OCTAVIO. 

And  you  submit  to  the  order  ? 

ISOLANI. 

I  — 

But  you  have  taken  me  so  by  surprise  — 
Time  for  reflection  one  must  have  — 

OCTAVIO. 

Two  minutes. 

ISOLANI. 

My  God !  but  then  the  case  is  — 

OCTAVIO. 

Plain  and  simple. 
You  must  declare  you,  whether  you  determine 
To  act  a  treason  'gainst  your  lord  and  sovereign, 
Or  whether  you  will  serve  him  faithfully. 

ISOLANI. 

Treason  !     My  God  !     But  who  talks  then  of  treason  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

That  is  the  case.     The  prince-duke  is  a  traitor  — 
Means  to  lead  over  to  the  enemy 
The  emperor's  army.     Now,  count !  brief  and  full  — 
Say,  will  you  break  your  oath  to  the  emperor  ? 
Sell  yourself  to  the  enemy  ?     Say,  will  you  ? 

ISOLANI. 

What  mean  you  ?     I  —  I  break  my  oath,  d'ye  say 

To  his  imperial  majesty  ? 

Did  I  say  so  !     When,  when  have  I  said  that  ? 


202  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

OCTAVIO. 

You  have  not  said  it  yet  —  not  yet.     This  instant 
T  wait  to  hear,  count,  whether  you  will  say  it. 

ISOLANI. 

Ay !  that  delights  me  now,  that  you  yourself 
Bear  witness  for  me  that  I  never  said  so. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  you  renounce  the  duke  then  ? 

ISOLANI. 

If  he's  planning 
Treason  —  why,  treason  breaks  all  bonds  asunder. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  are  determined,  too,  to  fight  against  him  ? 

ISOLANI. 

He  has  done  me  service  —  but  if  he's  a  villain, 
Perdition  seize  him  !     All  scores  are  rubbed  off. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  am  rejoiced  that  you  are  so  well  disposed. 
This  night  break  off  in  the  utmost  secrecy 
With  all  the  light-armed  troops  —  it  must  appear 
As  came  the  order  from  the  duke  himself. 
At  Frauenburg's  the  place  of  rendezvous ; 
There  will  Count  Gallas  give  you  further  orders. 

ISOLANI. 

It  shall  be  done.     But  you'll  remember  me 

With  the  emperor  —  how  well  disposed  you  found  me. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  203 

OCTAVIO. 

I  will  not  fail  to  mention  it  honourably. 

[Exit  Isolani.     A  Servant  enters. 
What,  Colonel  Butler  !     Show  him  up. 

ISOLANI  (returning). 

Forgive  me  too  my  bearish  ways,  old  father ! 
Lord  God !  how  should  I  know,  then,  what  a  great 
Person  I  had  before  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

No  excuses ! 

ISOLANI. 

I  am  a  merry  lad,  and  if  at  time 

A  rash  word  might  escape  me  'gainst  the  court 

Amidst  my  wine,  —  you  know  no  harm  was  meant. 

[Exit. 

OCTAVIO. 

You  need  not  be  uneasy  on  that  score. 
That  has  succeeded.     Fortune  favour  us 
With  all  the  others  only  but  as  much. 

Scene  VI. 

OCTAVIO  PlCCOLOMINI,  BUTLER. 
BUTLER. 

At  your  command,  lieutenant-general. 

OCTAVIO. 

Welcome,  as  honoured  friend  and  visitor. 

BUTLER. 

You  do  me  too  much  honour. 


204  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

octavio  {after  both  have  seated  themselves). 

You  have  not 

Returned  the  advances  which  I  made  you  yesterday 

Misunderstood  them  as  mere  empty  forms. 
That  wish  proceeded  from  my  heart  —  I  was 
In  earnest  with  you  —  for  'tis  now  a  time 
In  which  the  honest  should  unite  most  closely. 

BUTLER. 

Tis  only  the  like-minded  can  unite. 

OCTAVIO. 

True !  and  I  name  all  honest  men  like-minded. 

I  never  charge  a  man  but  with  those  acts 

To  which  his  character  deliberately 

Impels  him ;  for  alas  !  the  violence 

Of  blind  misunderstandings  often  thrusts 

The  very  best  of  us  from  the  right  track. 

You  came  through  Frauenburg.     Did  the  Count  Gallas 

Say  nothing  to  you  ?     Tell  me.     He's  my  friend. 

BUTLER. 

His  words  were  lost  on  me. 


OCTAVIO. 

It  grieves  me  sorely 
To  hear  it :  for  his  counsel  was  most  wise. 
I  had  myself  the  like  to  offer. 

BUTLER. 

Spare 
Yourself  the  trouble  —  me  the  embarrassment 
To  have  deserved  so  ill  your  good  opinion. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  205 

OCTAVIO. 

The  time  is  precious  —  let  us  talk  openly. 
You  know  how  matters  stand  here.     Wallenstein 
Meditates  treason  —  I  can  tell  you  further, 
He  has  committed  treason ;  but  few  hours 
Have  passed  since  he  a  covenant  concluded 
With  the  enemy.     The  messengers  are  now 
Full  on  their  way  to  Egra  and  to  Prague. 
To-morrow  he  intends  to  lead  us  over 
To  the  enemy.     But  he  deceives  himself ; 
For  prudence  wakes  —  the  emperor  has  still 
Many  and  faithful  friends  here,  and  they  stand 
In  closest  union,  mighty  though  unseen. 
This  manifesto  sentences  the  duke  — 
Eecalls  the  obedience  of  the  army  from  him, 
And  summons  all  the  loyal,  all  the  honest, 
To  join  and  recognise  in  me  their  leader. 
Choose  —  will  you  share  with  us  an  honest  cause  ? 
Or  with  the  evil  share  an  evil  lot  ? 


butler  (rises). 
His  lot  is  mine. 

OCTAVIO. 

Is  that  your  last  resolve  ? 


BUTLER. 

It  is. 

OCTAVIO. 

Nay,  but  bethink  you,  Colonel  Butler. 
As  yet  you  have  time.     Within  my  faithful  breast 
That  rashly  uttered  word  remains  interred. 
Recall  it,  Butler  !  choose  a  better  party ; 
You  have  not  chosen  the  right  one. 


206  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

butlek  {going). 

Any  other 
Commands  for  me,  lieutenant-general  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

See  your  white  hairs ;  recall  that  word ! 

BUTLER. 

Farewell ! 

OCTAVIO. 

What !     Would  you  draw  this  good  and  gallant  sword 
In  such  a  cause  ?     Into  a  curse  would  you 
Transform  the  gratitude  which  you  have  earned 
By  forty  years'  fidelity  from  Austria  ? 

butler  {laughing  with  bitterness). 
Gratitude  from  the  House  of  Austria !         [He  is  going. 

OCTAVIO  {permits  him  to  go  as  far  as  the  door,  then 
calls  after  him). 
Butler ! 

BUTLER. 

What  wish  you  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

How  was't  with  the  count  ? 

BUTLER. 

Count  ?  what  ? 

octavio  {coldly). 

The  title  that  you  wished,  I  mean. 

butler  {starts  in  sudden  passion). 
Hell  and  damnation ' 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  207 

octavio  (coldly). 

You  petitioned  for  it  — 
And  your  petition  was  repelled  —  was  it  so  ? 

BUTLER. 

Your  insolent  scoff  shall  not  go  by  unpunished. 
Draw ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Nay !  your  sword  to  its  sheath !  and  tell  me  calmly 
How  all  that  happened.     I  will  not  refuse  you 
Your  satisfaction  afterwards.     Calmly,  Butler  ! 

BUTLER. 

Be  the  whole  world  acquainted  with  the  weakness 

For  which  I  never  can  forgive  myself, 

Lieutenant-general !     Yes  ;  I  have  ambition. 

Ne'er  was  I  able  to  endure  contempt. 

It  stung  me  to  the  quick  that  birth  and  title 

Should  have  more  weight  than  merit  has  in  the  army. 

I  would  fain  not  be  meaner  than  my  equal, 

So  in  an  evil  hour  I  let  myself 

Be  tempted  to  that  measure.     It  was  folly  ! 

But  yet  so  hard  a  penance  it  deserved  not. 

It  might  have  been  refused  ;  but  wherefore  barb 

And  venom  the  refusal  with  contempt  ? 

Why  dash  to  earth  and  crush  with  heaviest  scorn 

The  gray-haired  man,  the  faithful  veteran  ? 

Why  to  the  baseness  of  his  parentage 

Refer  him  with  such  cruel  roughness,  only 

Because  he  had  a  weak  hour  and  forgot  himself  ? 

But  nature  gives  a  sting  e'en  to  the  worm 

Which  wanton  power  treads  on  in  sport  and  insult. 

OCTAVIO. 

You  must  have  been  calumniated.     Guess  you 
The  enemy  who  did  you  this  ill  service  ? 


208  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

BUTLER. 

Be't  who  it  will  —  a  most  low-hearted  scoundrel ! 
Some  vile  court-minion  must  it  be,  some  Spaniard ; 
Some  young  squire  of  some  ancient  family, 
In  whose  light  I  may  stand ;  some  envious  knave, 
Stung  to  his  soul  by  my  fair  self-earned  honours ! 

OCTAVIO. 

But  tell  me,  did  the  duke  approve  that  measure  ? 

BUTLER. 

Himself  impelled  me  to  it,  used  his  interest 
In  my  behalf  with  all  the  warmth  of  friendship. 

OCTAVIO. 

Ay  !  are  you  sure  of  that  ? 

BUTLER. 

I  read  the  letter. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  so  did  I  —  but  the  contents  were  different. 

[Butler  is  suddenly  struck. 
By  chance  I'm  in  possession  of  that  letter  — 
Can  leave  it  to  your  own  eyes  to  convince  you. 

\He  gives  him  the  letter. 

BUTLER. 

Ha  !  what  is  this  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

I  fear  me,  Colonel  Butler, 
An  infamous  game  have  they  been  playing  with  you. 
The  duke,  you  say,  impelled  you  to  this  measure  ? 
Now,  in  this  letter,  talks  he  in  contempt 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  209 

Concerning  you  ;  counsels  the  minister 

To  give  sound  chastisement  to  your  conceit, 

For  so  he  calls  it. 

[butlek  reads  through  the  letter ;  his  knees  tremble, 
he  seizes  a  chair  and  sinks  down  in  it. 
You  have  no  enemy,  no  persecutor ; 
There's  no  one  wishes  ill  to  you.     Ascribe 
The  insult  you  received  to  the  duke  only. 
His  aim  is  clear  and  palpable.     He  wished 
To  tear  you  from  your  emperor :  he  hoped 
To  gain  from  your  revenge  what  he  well  knew 
(What  your  long-tried  fidelity  convinced  him) 
He  ne'er  could  dare  expect  from  your  calm  reason. 
A  blind  tool  would  he  make  you,  in  contempt 
Use  you,  as  means  of  most  abandoned  ends. 
He    has    gained   his   point.      Too   well   has   he    suc- 
ceeded 
In  luring  you  away  from  that  good  path 
On  which  you  had  been  journeying  forty  years ! 

BUTLER  (his  voice  trembling). 
Can  e'er  the  emperor's  majesty  forgive  me  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

More  than  forgive  you.     He  would  fain  compensate 
For  that  affront,  and  most  unmerited  grievance 
Sustained  by  a  deserving  gallant  veteran. 
From  his  free  impulse  he  confirms  the  present 
Which  the  duke  made  you  for  a  wicked  purpose. 
The  regiment,  which  you  now  command,  is  yours. 

[Butler  attempts  to  rise,  sinks  down  again.  He 
labours  inwardly  with  violent  emotions ;  tries 
to  speak  and  cannot.  At  length  he  takes  his 
sword  from  the  belt,  and  offers  it  to  Picco- 

LOMINI. 


210  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

OCTAVIO. 
What  wish  you  ?     Recollect  yourself,  friend. 

BUTLEK. 

Take  it. 

OCTAVIO. 

But  to  what  purpose  ?     Calm  yourself. 

BUTLEK. 

O  take  it ! 
I  am  no  longer  worthy  of  this  sword. 

OCTAVIO. 

Receive  it  then  anew,  from  my  hands  —  and 
Wear  it  with  honour  for  the  right  cause  ever. 

BUTLER. 

Perjure  myself  to  such  a  gracious  sovereign  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

You'll  make  amends.     Quick  !  break  off  from  the  duke ! 

BUTLER. 

Break  off  from  him ! 

OCTAVIO. 

What  now  ?     Bethink  thyself. 

BUTLER  (no  longer  governing  his  emotion). 
Only  break  off  from  him  ?     He  dies  !  he  dies ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Come  after  me  to  Frauenburg,  where  now 
All  who  are  loyal  are  assembling  under 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  211 

Counts  Altringer  and  Gallas.     Many  others 
I've  brought  to  a  remembrance  of  their  duty : 
This  night  be  sure  that  you  escape  from  Pilsen. 

butler  (strides  up   and  down  in  excessive  agitation, 
then  steps  up  to  Octavio  with  resolved  countenance). 

Count  Piccolomini !  dare  that  man  speak 
Of  honour  to  you,  who  once  broke  his  troth  ? 

OCTAVIO. 

He  who  repents  so  deeply  of  it  dares. 

BUTLER. 

Then  leave  me  here  upon  my  word  of  honour ! 

OCTAVIO. 

What's  your  design  ? 

BUTLER. 

Leave  me  and  my  regiment. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  have  full  confidence  in  you.     But  tell  me 
What  are  you  brooding  ? 

BUTLER. 

That  the  deed  will  tell  you. 
Ask  me  no  more  at  present.     Trust  to  me. 
Ye  may  trust  safely.     By  the  living  God, 
Ye  give  him  over,  not  to  his  good  angel ! 
Farewell.  [Exit  Butler. 

servant  (enters  with  a  billet). 

A  stranger  left  it,  and  is  gone. 
The  prince-duke's  horses  wait  for  you  below. 

[Exit  Servant. 


212  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

octavio  {reads). 

"  Be  sure,  make  haste  !     Your  faithful  Isolani." 
—  O  that  I  had  but  left  this  town  behind  me. 
To  split  upon  a  rock  so  near  the  haven  ! 
Away !     This  is  no  longer  a  safe  place 
For  me  !     Where  can  my  son  be  tarrying ! 


Scene  VII. 

Octavio  and  Max.  Piccolomini. 

Max.  enters  almost  in  a  state  of  derangement,  from 
extreme  agitation;  his  eyes  roll  wildly,  his  walk 
is  unsteady,  and  he  appears  not  to  observe  his 
father,  who  stands  at  a  distance,  and  gazes  at  him 
with  a  countenance  expressive  of  compassion.  He 
paces  with  long  strides  through  the  chamber,  then 
stands  still  again,  and  at  last  throws  himself  into 
a  chair,  staring  vacantly  at  the  object  directly  be- 
fore him. 

octavio  {advances  to  him). 

I  am  going  off,  my  son. 

[Receiving  no  answer,  he  takes  his  hand. 
My  son,  farewell. 

MAX. 

Farewell. 

OCTAVIO. 

Thou  wilt  soon  follow  me  ? 

MAX. 

I  follow  thee  ? 
Thy  way  is  crooked  —  it  is  not  my  way. 

[Octavio  drops  his  hand  and  starts  back. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  213 

Oh,  hadst  thou  been  but  simple  and  sincere, 
Ne'er  had  it  come  to  this  —  all  had  stood  otherwise. 
He  had  not  done  that  foul  and  horrible  deed, 
The  virtuous  had  retained  their  influence  over  him : 
He  had  not  fallen  into  the  snares  of  villains. 
Wherefore  so  like  a  thief  and  thief's  accomplice 
Didst  creep  behind  him  lurking  for  thy  prey ! 
Oh,  unblest  falsehood  !     Mother  of  all  evil ! 
Thou  misery-making  demon,  it  is  thou 
That  sinkest  us  in  perdition.     Simple  truth, 
Sustainer  of  the  world,  had  saved  us  all ! 
Father,  I  will  not,  I  cannot  excuse  thee ! 
Wallenstein  has  deceived  me  —  oh,  most  foully ! 
But  thou  hast  acted  not  much  better. 

OCTAVIO. 

Son, 
My  son,  ah  !  I  forgive  thy  agony  ! 

max.  (rises  and  contemplates  his  father  with  looks 
of  suspicion). 

Was't  possible  ?  hadst  thou  the  heart,  my  father, 
Hadst  thou  the  heart  to  drive  it  to  such  lengths,  . 
With  cold  premeditated  purpose  ?     Thou  — 
Hadst  thou  the  heart  to  wish  to  see  him  guilty 
Rather  than  saved  ?     Thou  risest  by  his  fall. 
Octavio,  'twill  not  please  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

God  in  heaven ! 

MAX. 

Oh,  woe  is  me !  sure  I  have  changed  my  nature. 
How  comes  suspicion  here  —  in  the  free  soul  ? 
Hope,  confidence,  belief,  are  gone ;  for  all 
Lied  to  me,  all  that  I  e'er  loved  or  honoured. 


214  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

No,  no  !  not  all !     She  —  she  yet  lives  for  me, 

And  she  is  true,  and  open  as  the  heavens ! 

Deceit  is  everywhere,  hypocrisy, 

Murder,  and  poisoning,  treason,  perjury  : 

The  single  holy  spot  is  our  love, 

The  only  unprofaned  in  human  nature. 

OCTAVIO. 

Max.  —  we  will  go  together.     'Twill  be  better. 

MAX. 

What  ?  ere  I've  taken  a  last  parting  leave, 
The  very  last  —  no,  never  ! 

OCTAVIO. 
Spare  thyself 

The  pang  of  necessary  separation. 
Come  with  me  !     Come,  my  son ! 

[Attempts  to  take  him  with  him. 

MAX. 

No !  as  sure  as  God  lives,  no  ! 

octavio  (more  urgently). 
Come  with  me,  I  command  thee  !  I,  thy  father. 

MAX. 

Command  me  what  is  human.     I  stay  here. 

OCTAVIO. 

Max. !  in  the  emperor's  name  I  bid  thee  come. 

MAX. 

No  emperor  has  power  to  prescribe 

Laws  to  the  heart ;  and  wouldst  thou  wish  to  rob  me 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  215 

Of  the  sole  blessing  which  my  fate  has  left  me, 
Her  sympathy  ?     Must  then  a  cruel  deed 
Be  done  with  cruelty  ?     The  unalterable 
Shall  I  perform  ignobly  —  steal  away, 
With  stealthy  coward  flight  forsake  her  ?     No  ! 
She  shall  behold  my  suffering,  my  sore  anguish, 
Hear  the  complaints  of  the  disparted  soul, 
And  weep  tears  o'er  me.     Oh !  the  human  race 
Have  steely  souls  —  but  she  is  as  an  angel. 
From  the  black  deadly  madness  of  despair 
Will  she  redeem  my  soul,  and  in  soft  words 
Of  comfort,  plaining,  loose  this  pang  of  death  ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Thou  wilt  not  tear  thyself  away ;  thou  canst  not. 
Oh,  come,  my  son !     I  bid  thee  save  thy  virtue. 

MAX. 

Squander  not  thou  thy  words  in  vain. 
The  heart  I  follow,  for  I  dare  trust  to  it. 

OCTAVIO  (trembling  and  losing  all  self-command). 

Max. !  Max. !  if  that  most  damned  thing  could  be, 

If  thou  —  my  son  —  my  own  blood  —  (dare  I  think 

it?) 
Do  sell  thyself  to  him,  the  infamous, 
Do  stamp  this  brand  upon  our  noble  house, 
Then  shall  the  world  behold  the  horrible  deed, 
And  in  unnatural  combat  shall  the  steel 
Of  the  son  trickle  with  the  father's  blood. 

MAX. 

Oh,  hadst  thou  always  better  thought  of  men, 
Thou  hadst  then  acted  better.     Curst  suspicion, 
Unholy,  miserable  doubt !     To  him 


216  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Nothing  on  earth  remains  unwrenched  and  firm 
Who  has  no  faith. 

OCTAVIO. 

And  if  I  trust  thy  heart, 
Will  it  be  always  in  thy  power  to  follow  it 

MAX. 

The  heart's  voice  thou  hast  not  o'erpowered  —  as  little 
Will  Wallenstein  be  able  to  o'erpower  it. 

OCTAVIO. 

0,  Max. !  I  see  thee  never  more  again ! 

MAX. 

Unworthy  of  thee  wilt  thou  never  see  me. 

OCTAVIO. 

I  go  to  Frauenburg  —  the  Pappenheimers 
I  leave  thee  here,  the  Lothrings  too ;  Tsokana 
And  Tiefenbach  remain  here  to  protect  thee. 
They  love  thee,  and  are  faithful  to  their  oath, 
And  will  far  rather  fall  in  gallant  contest 
Than  leave  their  rightful  leader  and  their  honour. 

MAX. 

Eely  on  this,  I  either  leave  my  life 

In  the  struggle,  or  conduct  them  out  of  Pilsen. 

OCTAVIO. 

Farewell,  my  son ! 

MAX. 

Farewell ! 

OCTAVIO. 

How !  not  one  look 
Of  filial  love  ?     No  grasp  of  the  hand  at  parting  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  217 

It  is  a  bloody  war  to  which  we  are  going, 
And  the  event  uncertain  and  in  darkness. 
So  used  we  not  to  part  —  it  was  not  so ! 
Is  it  then  true  ?     I  have  a  son  no  longer  ? 

[Max.  falls  into  his  arms,  they  hold  each  other  for 
a  long  time  in  a  speechless  embrace,  then  go 
away  at  different  sides. 

(The  curtain  drops?) 


ACT    III. 

Scene  I. 

A  chamber  in  the  house  of  the  Duchess  of  Friedland. 

Countess  Teezky,  Thekla,  Lady  Neubkunn  {the  two 
latter  sit  at  the  same  table  at  work). 

COUNTESS  (watching  them  from  the  opposite  side). 

So  you  have  nothing  to  ask  me  —  nothing  ? 
I  have  been  waiting  for  a  word  from  you. 
And  could  you  then  endure  in  all  this  time 
Not  once  to  speak  his  name  ? 

[Thekla  remaining  silent  the  Countess  rises  and 
advances  to  her. 

Why,  how  comes  this  ? 
Perhaps  I  am  already  grown  superfluous, 
And  other  ways  exist,  besides  through  me  ? 
Confess  it  to  me,  Thekla  :  have  you  seen  him  ? 

THEKLA. 

To-day  and  yesterday  I  have  not  seen  him. 

COUNTESS. 

And  not  heard  from  him,  either  ?     Come,  be  open. 


218  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

THEKLA. 

No  syllable. 

COUNTESS. 

And  still  you  are  so  calm  ? 

THEKLA. 

I  am. 

COUNTESS. 

May  it  please  you,  leave  us,  Lady  Neubrunn. 

[Exit  Lady  Neubrunn. 

Scene  II. 
The  Countess,  Thekla. 

countess. 

It  does  not  please  me,  princess,  that  he  holds 
Himself  so  still,  exactly  at  this  time. 

THEKLA. 

Exactly  at  this  time  ? 

COUNTESS. 

He  now  knows  all. 
'Twere  now  the  moment  to  declare  himself 

THEKLA. 

If  I'm  to  understand  you,  speak  less  darkly. 

COUNTESS. 

'Twas  for  that  purpose  that  I  bade  her  leave  us. 

Thekla,  you  are  no  more  a  child.     Your  heart 

Is  no  more  in  nonage :  for  you  love, 

And  boldness  dwells  with  love  —  that  you  have  proved 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  219 

Your  nature  moulds  itself  upon  your  father's 

More  than  your  mother's  spirit.     Therefore  may  you 

Hear  what  were  too  much  for  her  fortitude. 


THEKLA. 

Enough :  no  further  preface,  I  entreat  you. 
At  once,  out  with  it  !     Be  it  what  it  may, 
It  is  not  possible  that  it  should  torture  me 
More  than  this  introduction.     What  have  you 
To  say  to  me  ?     Tell  me  the  whole,  and  briefly ! 

COUNTESS. 

You'll  not  be  frightened  — 

THEKLA. 

Name  it,  I  entreat  you. 

COUNTESS. 

It  lies  within  your  power  to  do  your  father 
A  weighty  service  — 

THEKLA. 

Lies  within  my  power. 

COUNTESS. 

Max.  Piccolomini  loves  you.     You  can  link  him 
Indissolubly  to  your  father. 

THEKLA. 

I? 

What  need  of  me  for  that  ?     And  is  he  not 
Already  linked  to  him  ? 

COUNTESS. 

He  was. 


220  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

THEKLA. 

And  wherefore 
Should  he  not  be  so  now  —  not  be  so  always  ? 

COUNTESS. 

He  cleaves  to  the  emperor  too. 

THEKLA. 

Not  more  than  duty 
And  honour  may  demand  of  him. 

COUNTESS. 

We  ask 
Proofs  of  his  love,  and  not  proofs  of  his  honour. 
Duty  and  honour! 

Those  are  ambiguous  words  with  many  meanings. 
You  should  interpret  them  for  him :  his  love 
Should  be  the  sole  definer  of  his  honour. 

THEKLA. 

How? 

COUNTESS. 

The  emperor  or  you  must  he  renounce. 

THEKLA. 

He  will  accompany  my  father  gladly 

In  his  retirement.     From  himself  you  heard, 

How  much  he  wished  to  lay  aside  the  sword. 

COUNTESS. 

He  must  not  lay  the  sword  aside,  we  mean ; 
He  must  unsheath  it  in  your  father's  cause. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  221 

THEKLA. 

He'll  spend  with  gladness  and  alacrity 

His  life,  his  heart's  blood  in  my  father's  cause, 

If  shame  or  injury  be  intended  him. 

COUNTESS. 

You  will  not  understand  me.     Well,  hear  then  :  — 
Your  father  has  fallen  off  from  the  emperor, 
And  is  about  to  join  the  enemy 
With  the  whole  soldiery  — 

THEKLA. 

Alas,  my  mother ! 

COUNTESS. 

There  needs  a  great  example  to  draw  on 
The  army  after  him.     The  Piccolomini 
Possess  the  love  and  reverence  of  the  troops ; 
They  govern  all  opinions,  and  wherever 
They  lead  the  way,  none  hesitate  to  follow. 
The  son  secures  the  father  to  our  interests  — 
You've  much  in  your  hands  at  this  moment. 

THEKLA. 

Ah, 

My  miserable  mother !  what  a  death-stroke 
Awaits  thee  i     No.!  she  never  will  survive  it. 

COUNTESS. 

She  will  accommodate  her  soul  to  that 

Which  is  and  must  be.     I  do  know  your  mother ! 

The  far-off  future  weighs  upon  her  heart 

With  torture  of  anxiety ;  but  is  it 

Unalterably,  actually  present, 

She  soon  resigns  herself,  and  bears  it  calmly. 


222  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

THEKLA. 

0  my  foreboding  bosom !     Even  now, 
E'en  now  'tis  here,  that  icy  hand  of  horror ! 
And  my  young  hope  lies  shuddering  in  its  grasp ; 

1  knew  it  well  —  no  sooner  had  I  entered, 
An  heavy  ominous  presentiment 

Eevealed  to  me  that  spirits  of  death  were  hovering 
Over  my  happy  fortune.     But  why  think  I 
First  of  myself  ?     My  mother !     0  my  mother ! 

COUNTESS. 

Calm  yourself !     Break  not  out  in  vain  lamenting ! 
Preserve  you  for  your  father  the  firm  friend, 
And  for  yourself  the  lover,  all  will  yet 
Prove  good  and  fortunate. 

THEKLA. 

Prove  good  !     What  good  ? 
Must  we  not  part ;  part  ne'er  to  meet  again  ? 

COUNTESS. 

He  parts  not  from  you !     He  cannot  part  from  you. 

THEKLA. 

Alas,  for  his  sore  anguish  !     It  will  rend 
His  heart  asunder. 

COUNTESS. 

If  indeed  he  loves  you, 
His  resolution  will  be  speedily  taken. 

THEKLA. 

His  resolution  will  be  speedily  taken  — 
Oh,  do  not  doubt  of  that !     A  resolution  : 
Does  there  remain  one  to  be  taken  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  223 

COUNTESS. 

Hush! 
Collect  yourself !     I  hear  your  mother  coming. 

THEKLA. 

How  shall  I  bear  to  see  her  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Collect  yourself. 

Scene  III. 
To  them  enter  the  Duchess. 

DUCHESS  (to  the  COUNTESS). 

Who  was  here,  sister  ?     I  heard  some  one  talking, 
And  passionately,  too. 

COUNTESS. 

Nay,  there  was  no  one. 

DUCHESS. 

I  am  growing  so  timorous,  every  trifling  noise 
Scatters  my  spirits,  and  announces  to  me 
The  footstep  of  some  messenger  of  evil. 
And  you  can  tell  me,  sister,  what  the  event  is  ? 
Will  he  agree  to  do  the  emperor's  pleasure, 
And  send  the  horse  regiments  to  the  cardinal  ? 
Tell  me,  has  he  dismissed  Von  Questenberg 
With  a  favourable  answer  ? 

COUNTESS. 

No,  he  has  not. 


224  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

DUCHESS. 

Alas  !  then  all  is  lost !     I  see  it  coming, 

The  worst  that  can  come !     Yes,  they  will  depose  him, 

The  accursed  business  of  the  Regensburg  diet 

Will  all  be  acted  o'er  again ! 


COUNTESS. 

No !  never ! 
Make  your  heart  easy,  sister,  as  to  that. 

[Thekla,  in  extreme  agitation,  throws  herself  upon 
her  mother,  and  enfolds  her  in  her  arms, 
weeping. 

DUCHESS. 

Yes,  my  poor  child  ! 
Thou  too  hast  lost  a  most  affectionate  godmother 
In  the  empress.     Oh,  that  stern,  unbending  man  ! 
In  this  unhappy  marriage  what  have  I 
Not  suffered,  not  endured  ?     For  even  as  if 
I  had  been  linked  on  to  some  wheel  of  fire 
That  restless,  ceaseless,  whirls  impetuous  onward, 
I  have  passed  a  life  of  frights  and  horrors  with  him, 
And  ever  to  the  brink  of  some  abyss 
With  dizzy  headlong  violence  he  bears  me. 
Nay,  do  not  weep,  my  child.     Let  not  my  sufferings 
Presignify  unhappiness  to  thee, 

Nor  blacken  with  their  shade  the  fate  that  waits  thee. 
Their  lives  no  second  Friedland ;  thou,  my  child, 
Hast  not  to  fear  thy  mother's  destiny. 

THEKLA. 

Oh,  let  us  supplicate  him,  dearest  mother ! 
Quick  !  quick  !  here's  no  abiding-place  for  us. 
Here  every  coming  hour  broods  into  life 
Some  new  affrightful  monster. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  225 

DUCHESS. 

Thou  wilt  share 
An  easier,  calmer  lot,  my  child  !     We,  too, 
I  and  thy  father,  witnessed  happy  days. 
Still  think  I  with  delight  of  those  first  years, 
When  he  was  making  progress  with  glad  effort, 
When  his  ambition  was  a  genial  fire, 
Not  that  consuming  flame  which  now  it  is. 
The  emperor  loved  him,  trusted  him ;  and  all 
He  undertook  could  not  but  be  successful. 
But  since  that  ill-starred  day  at  Eegensburg, 
Which  plunged  him  headlong  from  his  dignity, 
A  gloomy,  uncompanionable  spirit, 
Unsteady  and  suspicious,  has  possessed  him. 
His  quiet  mind  forsook  him,  and  no  longer 
Did  he  yield  up  himself  in  joy  and  faith 
To  his  old  luck  and  individual  power ; 
But  thenceforth  turned  his  heart  and  best  affections 
All  to  those  cloudy  sciences  which  never 
Have  yet  made  happy  him  who  followed  them. 

COUNTESS. 

You  see  it,  sister !  as  your  eyes  permit  you, 

But  surely  this  is  not  the  conversation 

To  pass  the  time  in  which  we  are  waiting  for  him. 

You  know  he  will  be  soon  here.    Would  you  have  him 

Find  her  in  this  condition  ? 


DUCHESS. 

Come,  my  child ! 
Come,  wipe  away  thy  tears,  and  show  thy  father 
A  cheerful  countenance.     See,  the  tie-knot  here 
Is  off ;  this  hair  must  not  hang  so  dishevelled. 
Come,  dearest !  dry  thy  tears  up.     They  deform 
Thy  gentle  eye.     Well,  now  —  what  was  I  saying  ? 


226  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Yes,  in  good  truth,  this  Piccolomini 

Is  a  most  noble  and  deserving  gentleman. 

COUNTESS. 

That  is  he,  sister  ! 

thekla  (to  the  countess,  with  marks  of  great  oppres- 
sion of  spirits). 

Aunt,  you  will  excuse  me  ?   [Is  going. 

COUNTESS. 

But,  whither  ?     See,  your  father  comes 

THEKLA. 

I  cannot  see  him  now. 

COUNTESS. 

Nay,  but  bethink  you. 

THEKLA. 

Believe  me,  I  cannot  sustain  his  presence. 

COUNTESS. 

But  he  will  miss  you,  will  ask  after  you. 

DUCHESS. 

What,  now  ?     Why  is  she  going  ? 

COUNTESS. 

She's  not  well. 

duchess  (anxiously). 

What  ails,  then,  my  beloved  child  ? 

[Both  follow  the  Princess,  and  endeavour  to  detain 
her.  During  this  Wallenstein  appears,  en- 
gaged in  conversation  with  Illo. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  227 

Scene  IV. 

Wallenstein,  Illo,  Countess,  Duchess,  Thekla. 

wallenstein. 
All  quiet  in  the  camp  ? 

ILLO. 

It  is  all  quiet. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

In  a  few  hours  may  couriers  come  from  Prague 

With  tidings  that  this  capital  is  ours. 

Then  we  may  drop  the  mask,  and  to  the  troops 

Assembled  in  this  town  make  known  the  measure 

And  its  result  together.     In  such  cases 

Example  does  the  whole.     Whoever  is  foremost 

Still  leads  the  herd.     An  imitative  creature 

Is  man.     The  troops  at  Prague  conceive  no  other, 

Than  that  the  Pilsen  army  has  gone  through 

The  forms  of  homage  to  us ;  and  in  Pilsen 

They  shall  swear  fealty  to  us,  because 

The  example  has  been  given  them  by  Prague. 

Butler,  you  tell  me,  has  declared  himself  ? 

ILLO. 

At  his  own  bidding,  unsolicited, 

He  came  to  offer  you  himself  and  regiment. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  find  we  must  not  give  implicit  credence 
To  every  warning  voice  that  makes  itself 
Be  listened  to  in  the  heart.     To  hold  us  back, 
Oft  does  the  lying  spirit  counterfeit 
The  voice  of  truth  and  inward  revelation, 


228  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Scattering  false  oracles.     And  thus  have  I 
To  entreat  forgiveness  for  that  secretly. 
I've  wronged  this  honourable  gallant  man, 
This  Butler :  for  a  feeling  of  the  which 
I  am  not  master  (fear  I  would  not  call  it), 
Creeps  o'er  me  instantly,  with  sense  of  shuddering, 
At  his  approach,  and  stops  love's  joyous  motion. 
And  this  same  man,  against  whom  I  am  warned, 
This  honest  man  is  he  who  reaches  to  me 
The  first  pledge  of  my  fortune. 

ILLO. 

And  doubt  not 
That  his  example  will  win  over  to  you 
The  best  men  in  the  army. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Go  and  send 
Isolani  hither.     Send  him  immediately. 
He  is  under  recent  obligations  to  me : 
With  him  will  I  commence  the  trial.    Go.    [Exit  Illo. 

wallenstein  {turns  himself  around  to  the  females). 

Lo,  there's  the  mother  with  the  darling  daughter. 
For  once  we'll  have  an  interval  of  rest  — 
Come !  my  heart  yearns  to  live  a  cloudless  hour 
In  the  beloved  circle  of  my  family. 

countess. 
'Tis  long  since  we've  been  thus  together,  brother. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  the  COUNTESS,  aside). 

Can  she  sustain  the  news  ?     Is  she  prepared  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Not  yet. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  229 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Come  here,  my  sweet  girl !     Seat  thee  by  me, 
For  there  is  a  good  spirit  on  thy  lips. 
Thy  mother  praised  to  me  thy  ready  skill ; 
She  says  a  voice  of  melody  dwells  in  thee, 
Which  doth  enchant  the  soul.     Now  such  a  voice 
Will  drive  away  from  me  the  evil  demon 
That  beats  his  black  wings  close  above  my  head. 

DUCHESS. 

Where  is  thy  lute,  my  daughter  ?     Let  thy  father 
Hear  some  small  trial  of  thy  skill. 

THEKLA. 

My  mother 
I  — 

DUCHESS. 

Trembling  ?     Come,  collect  thyself.     Go,  cheer 
Thy  father. 

THEKLA. 

0  my  mother  !     I  —  I  cannot. 

COUNTESS. 

How,  what  is  that,  niece  ? 

THEKLA  {to  the  COUNTESS). 

O  spare  me  —  sing  —  now  —  in  this  sore  anxiety 
Of  the  overburdened  soul  —  to  sing  to  him 
Who  is  thrusting,  even  now,  my  mother  headlong 
Into  her  grave. 

DUCHESS. 

How,  Thekla  !  Humoursome  ! 
What !  shall  thy  father  have  expressed  a  wish 
In  vain  ? 


230  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

COUNTESS. 

Here  is  the  lute. 

THEKLA. 

My  God  !  how  can  I  — 
[The  orchestra  plays.  Dviring  the  ritornello 
Thekla  expresses  in  her  gestures  and  counte- 
nance the  struggle  of  her  feelings  ;  and  at  the 
moment  that  she  should  begin  to  sing  contracts 
herself  together,  as  one  shuddering,  throws  the 
instrument  down,  and  retires  abruptly. 

DUCHESS. 

My.  child  !  Oh,  is  she  ill  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  ails  the  maiden  ? 
Say,  is  she  often  so  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Since  then  herself 
Has  now  betrayed  it,  I  too  must  no  long 
Conceal  it. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What? 

COUNTESS. 

She  loves  him ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Loves  him  ?    Whom  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Max.  does  she  love  !  Max.  Piccolomini ! 

Hast  thou  never  noticed  it  ?     Nor  yet  my  sister  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  231 

DUCHESS. 

Was  it  this  that  lay  so  heavy  on  her  heart  ? 

God's  blessing  on  thee,  my  sweet  child  !     Thou  needest 

Never  take  shame  upon  thee  for  thy  choice. 

COUNTESS. 

This  journey,  if  'twere  not  thy  aim,  ascribe  it 

To  thine  own  self.     Thou  shouldst  have  chosen  another 

To  have  attended  her. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  does  he  know  it  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Yes,  and  he  hopes  to  win  her ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Hopes  to  win  her ! 
Is  the  boy  mad  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Well  —  hear  it  from  themselves. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He  thinks  to  carry  off  Duke  Friedland's  daughter ! 

Ay  ?     The  thought  pleases  me. 

The  young  man  has  no  grovelling  spirit. 

COUNTESS. 

Since 
Such  and  such  constant  favour  you  have  shown  him  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He  chooses  finally  to  be  my  heir. 

And  true  it  is,  I  love  the  youth ;  yea,  honour  him. 


232  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE1N 

But  must  he  therefore  be  my  daughter's  husband  ? 
Is  it  daughters  only  ?     Is  it  only  children 
That  we  must  show  our  favour  by  ? 

DUCHESS. 

His  noble  disposition  and  his  manners  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Win  him  my  heart,  but  not  my  daughter. 


DUCHESS. 

His  rank,  his  ancestors  — 


Then 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Ancestors !     What  ? 
He  is  a  subject,  and  my  son-in-law 
I  will  seek  out  upon  the  thrones  of  Europe. 

DUCHESS. 

0  dearest  Albrecht !     Climb  we  not  too  high 
Lest  we  should  fall  too  low. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What !  have  I  paid 
A  price  so  heavy  to  ascend  this  eminence, 
And  jut  out  high  above  the  common  herd, 
Only  to  close  the  mighty  part  I  play 
In  life's  great  drama  with  a  common  kinsman  ? 
Have  I  for  this  —    [Stops  suddenly,  repressing  himself. 

She  is  the  only  thing 
That  will  remain  behind  of  me  on  earth ; 
And  I  will  see  a  crown  around  her  head, 
Or  die  in  the  attempt  to  place  it  there. 

1  hazard  all  —  all !  and  for  this  alone, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  233 

To  lift  her  into  greatness  — 

Yea,  in  this  moment,  in  the  which  we  are  speaking  — 

[He  recollects  himself. 
And  I  must  now,  like  a  soft-hearted  father, 
Couple  together  in  good  peasant  fashion 
The  pair  that  chance  to  suit  each  other's  liking  — 
And  I  must  do  it  now,  even  now,  when  I 
Am  stretching  out  the  wreath  that  is  to  twine 
My  full  accomplished  work  —  no  !  she  is  the  jewel, 
Which  I  have  treasured  long,  my  last,  my  noblest, 
And  'tis  my  purpose  not  to  let  her  from  me 
For  less  than  a  king's  sceptre. 

DUCHESS. 

O  my  husband ! 
You're  ever  building,  building  to  the  clouds, 
Still  building  higher,  and  still  higher  building, 
And  ne'er  reflect,  that  the  poor  narrow  basis 
Cannot  sustain  the  giddy  tottering  column. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  the  COUNTESS). 

Have  you  announced  the  place  of  residence 
Which  I  have  destined  for  her  ? 

COUNTESS. 

No !  not  yet, 
'Twere  better  you  yourself  disclosed  it  to  her. 

DUCHESS. 

How  ?     Do  we  not  return  to  Carinthia  then  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

No. 

DUCHESS. 

And  to  no  other  of  your  lands  or  seats  ? 


234  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You  would  not  be  secure  there. 

DUCHESS. 

Not  secure 
In  the  emperor's  realms,  beneath  the  emperor's 
Protection  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Friedland's  wife  may  be  permitted 
No  longer  to  hope  that. 

DUCHESS. 

O  God  in  heaven ! 
And  have  you  brought  it  even  to  this ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

In  Holland 
You'll  find  protection. 

DUCHESS. 

In  a  Lutheran  country  ? 
What  ?     And  you  send  us  into  Lutheran  countries  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Duke  Franz  of  Lauenburg  conducts  you  thither. 

DUCHESS. 

Duke  Franz  of  Lauenburg  ? 

The  ally  of  Sweden,  the  emperor's  enemy  ? 


WALLENSTEIN. 

The  emperor's  enemies  are  mine  no  longer. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  235 

duchess  {casting  a  look  of  terror  on  the  duke  and  the 

COUNTESS). 

Is  it  then  true  ?     It  is.     You  are  degraded  : 
Deposed  from  the  command  ?     O  God  in  heaven . 

countess  (aside  to  the  duke). 

Leave  her  in  this  belief.     Thou  seest  she  cannot 
Support  the  real  truth. 

Scene  V. 
To  them  enter  Count  Tekzky. 

COUNTESS. 

Terzky ! 
What  ails  him  ?     What  an  image  of  affright ! 
He  looks  as  he  had  seen  a  ghost. 

teezky  (leading  wallenstein  aside). 
Is  it  thy  command  that  all  the  Croats  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Mine! 

TEKZKY. 

We  are  betrayed. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What? 

TERZKY. 

They  are  off !     This  night 
The  Jagers  likewise  —  all  the  villages 
In  the  whole  round  are  empty. 


236  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE1N 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Isolani ! 

TERZKY. 

Him  thou  hast  sent  away.     Yes,  surely. 

WALLENSTEIN. 
TERZKY. 

No  ?     Hast  thou  not  sent  him  off  ?     Nor  Deodati  ? 
They  are  vanished,  both  of  them. 

Scene  VI. 

To  them  enter  Illo. 

illo. 
Has  Terzky  told  thee  ? 

TERZKY. 

He  knows  all. 

ILLO. 

And  likewise 
That  Esterhazy,  Goetz,  Maradas,  Kaunitz, 
Kolatto,  Palfi,  have  forsaken  thee. 

TERZKY. 

Damnation ! 

wallenstein  (winks  at  them). 
Hush! 

countess  (who  has  been  watching  them  anxiously  from 
the  distance  and  now  advances  to  them). 

Terzky  !    Heaven  !    What  is  it  ?    What  has  happened  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  237 

wallenstein  {scarcely  sup-pressing  his  emotions). 
Nothing !  let  us  be  gone ! 

terzky  {following  him). 

Theresa,  it  is  nothing. 

COUNTESS  (Jiolding  him  back). 

Nothing  ?     Do  I  not  see  that  all  the  life-blood 
Has  left  your  cheeks  —  look  you  not  like  a  ghost  ? 
That  even  my  brother  but  affects  a  calmness  ? 

page  (enters'). 

An  aide-de-camp  inquires  for  the  Count  Terzky. 

[Tekzky  follows  the  Page. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Go,  hear  his  business.  [To  Illo. 

This  could  not  have  happened 
So  unsuspected  without  mutiny. 
Who  was  on  guard  at  the  gates  ? 

ILLO. 

'Twas  Tiefenbach. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Let  Tiefenbach  leave  guard  without  delay, 

And  Terzky's  grenadiers  relieve  him.        [Illo  is  going. 

Stop! 
Hast  thou  heard  aught  of  Butler  ? 

ILLO. 

Him  I  met : 


238  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

He  will  be  here  himself  immediately. 
Butler  remains  unshaken. 

[Illo  exit.     Wallenstein  is  following  him. 

COUNTESS. 

Let  him  not  leave  thee,  sister !  go,  detain  him  ! 
There's  some  misfortune. 

DUCHESS  {clinging  to  him). 

Gracious  Heaven !    What  is  it  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Be  tranquil !  leave  me,  sister  !  dearest  wife ! 
We  are  in  camp,  and  this  is  naught  unusual ; 
Here  storm  and  sunshine  follow  one  another 
With  rapid  interchanges.     These  fierce  spirits 
Champ  the  curb  angrily,  and  never  yet 
Did  quiet  bless  the  temples  of  the  leader ; 
If  I  am  to  stay,  go  you.     The  plaints  of  women 
111  suit  the  scene  where  men  must  act. 

[He  is  going  :  Terzky  returns. 

terzky. 
Remain  here.     From  this  window  must  we  see  it. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  the  COUNTESS). 

Sister,  retire ! 

COUNTESS. 
No  —  never ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

'Tis  my  will. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  239 

terzky  {leads   the  countess  aside,  and  drawing  her 

attention  to  the  duchess). 
Theresa ! 

duchess. 

Sister,  come  !  since  he  commands  it. 

Scene  VII. 

Wallestein,  Terzky. 

wallenstein  (stepping  to  the  window). 
What  now,  then  ? 

TERZKY. 

There  are  strange  movements  among  all  the  troops, 

And  no  one  knows  the  cause.     Mysteriously, 

With  gloomy  silentness,  the  several  corps 

Marshal  themselves,  each  under  its  own  banners ; 

Tiefenbach's  corps  make  threatening  movements  ;  only 

The  Pappenheimers  still  remain  aloof 

In  their  own  quarters  and  let  no  one  enter. 

wallenstein. 
Does  Piccolomini  appear  among  them  ? 

TERZKY. 

We  are  seeking  him :  he  is  nowhere  to  be  met  with. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  did  the  aide-de-camp  deliver  to  you  ? 

TERZKY. 

My  regiments  had  despatched  him  ;  yet  once  more 

They  swear  fidelity  to  thee,  and  wait 

The  shout  for  onset,  all  prepared,  and  eager. 


240  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

WALLENSTEIN. 

But  whence  arose  this  larum  in  the  camp  ? 
It  should  have  been  kept  secret  from  the  army 
Till  fortune  had  decided  for  us  at  Prague. 

TERZKY. 

Oh,  that  thou  hadst  believed  me !     Yester-evening 
Did  we  conjure  thee  not  to  let  that  skulker, 
That  fox,  Octavio,  pass  the  gates  of  Pilsen. 
Thou  gavest  him  thy  own  horses  to  flee  from  thee. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  old  tune  still !     Now,  once  for  all,  no  more 
Of  this  suspicion  —  it  is  doting  folly. 

TERZKY. 

Thou  didst  confide  in  Isolani  too ; 

And  lo !  he  was  the  first  that  did  desert  thee. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

It  was  but  yesterday  I  rescued  him 

From  abject  wretchedness.     Let  that  go  by ; 

I  never  reckoned  yet  on  gratitude. 

And  wherein  doth  he  wrong  in  going  from  me  ? 

He  follows  still  the  god  whom  all  his  life 

He  has  worshipped  at  the  gaming-table.     With 

My  fortune  and  my  seeming  destiny 

He  made  the  bond  and  broke  it,  not  with  me. 

I  am  but  the  ship  in  which  his  hopes  were  stowed 

And  with  the  which,  well-pleased  and  confident, 

He  traversed  the  open  sea ;  now  he  beholds  it 

In  eminent  jeopardy  among  the  coast-rocks, 

And  hurries  to  preserve  his  wares.     As  light 

As  the  free  bird  from  the  hospitable  twig 

Where  it  had  nested  he  flies  off  from  me : 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  241 

No  human  tie  is  snapped  betwixt  us  two. 
Yea,  he  deserves  to  find  himself  deceived 
Who  seeks  a  heart  in  the  unthinking  man. 
Like  shadows  on  a  stream,  the  forms  of  life 
Impress  their  characters  on  the  smooth  forehead, 
Naught  sinks  into  the  bosom's  silent  death : 
Quick  sensibility  of  pain  and  pleasure 
Moves  the  light  fluids  lightly ;  but  no  soul 
Warmeth  the  inner  frame. 

TERZKY. 

Yet,  would  I  rather 
Trust  the  smooth  brow  than  that  deep  furrowed  one. 


Scene  VIII. 

Wallenstein,  Terzky,  Illo. 

ILLO  (who  enters  agitated  with  rage). 
Treason  and  mutiny ! 

TERZKY. 

And  what  further  now  ? 
ILLO. 

Tiefenbach's  soldiers,  when  I  gave  the  orders 
To  go  off  guard  —  mutinous  villains  ! 

TERZKY. 

Well! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  followed  ? 

ILLO. 

They  refused  obedience  to  them. 


242  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

TEKZKY. 
Fire  on  them  instantly  !     Give  out  the  order. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Gently !  what  cause  did  they  assign  ? 

ILLO. 

No  other, 
They  said,  had  right  to  issue  orders  but 
Lieutenant-General  Piccolomini. 

wallenstein  (in  a  convulsion  of  agony). 
What  ?     How  is  that  ? 

ILLO. 

He  takes  that  office  on  him  by  commission, 
Under  sign-manual  from  the  emperor. 

TEKZKY. 

From  the  emperor  —  hearest  thou,  duke  ? 

ILLO. 

At  his  incitement 
The  generals  made  that  stealthy  flight  — 

TERZKY. 

Duke,  hearest  thou  ? 

ILLO. 

Caraffa  too,  and  Montecuculi, 

Are  missing,  with  six  other  generals, 

All  whom  he  had  induced  to  follow  him. 

This  plot  he  has  long  had  in  writing  by  him 

From  the  emperor ;  but  'twas  finally  concluded, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  243 

With  all  the  detail  of  the  operation, 

Some  days  ago  with  the  Envoy  Questenberg. 

[Wallenstein  sinks  down  into  a  chair  and  covers 
his  face. 

TERZKY. 

Oh,  hadst  thou  but  believed  me ! 


Scene  IX. 
To  them  enter  the  Countess. 

COUNTESS. 

This  suspense, 
This  horrid  fear  —  I  can  no  longer  bear  it. 
For  heaven's  sake  tell  me  what  has  taken  place  ? 

ILLO. 

The  regiments  are  falling  off  from  us. 

TERZKY. 

Octavio  Piccolomini  is  a  traitor. 

COUNTESS. 

0  my  foreboding  !  [Bushes  out  of  the  room. 

TERZKY. 

Hadst  thou  but  believed  me  ! 
Now  seest  thou  how  the  stars  have  lied  to  thee. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  stars  lie  not ;  but  we  have  here  a  work 
Wrought  counter  to  the  stars  and  destiny. 
The  science  is  still  honest :  this  false  heart 


244  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE  N 

For. 

b     :  -      :.:.".-.-> 

Where  nature  -  ad  si   "-ubles 

.:     tha  Bn  .>    .  Is  ■  n«     rrs. 

I  no:  s  W-;         -       rstition 

XV  -       .  -    -  -  .  .   ..  :     h  E&    ftt     . 

The  human  f::  some 

in  lis       Be  zir    :  :.     infirmity. 

D  st  s       _  ks  not      ith  ti  tun 

- :  be  I     phmge  the  £    ;  rd. 

I h .-   :  si  s deed: 

TV i  -  d  ; :  ; by  p  iei  "line  ; 

A  bad  st  :ne, 

Nc  shield  se  ssan  3b  than  phmgesl 

Thy  weapon    d  in  unprotected  bi     st  — 
...  -._-:  sod      spans  I     m  but  a  child 


X. 

7    -        enter  Btti: 

7i :    -: . 
Mi   '.::'^:l-:-  But]  i       Herr  ../.  amend! 

.^.~.z.y  (meets  kim,  with  or  .1  arms  and- cm- 

l 

.    :_.-■  I    -_v  heart     I :.  comrade!     Not  the  sun 

a 

Loc  ks         upon 

In  '.:.        rh*  -:  m  nth    :  sj  rxi  g 

friend's        ntenan :  b  in  -uch  an  hour. 

BUTLEB. 

My  general .  I  jome  — 


THE    DEATH    Of        UXENSTEDf  2i( 

WALLENSTEiy  iUardng  on  . 

That  old  inan  La 

What  sayest  thou  ?     Thirty  "  .   ,  r.L- : 

....      it      :.     .    .  ..;.-...; 

torn  one  _lass, 
On-  ...  I  leanec  ... 

A    now  I  lean  ine  on  t:. 
And  now  in  :  ...     .  ...  when    afl  . 

All  confide..  -  ... 

H~  md  take    "..". ■:  advantage   stale  die  knife 

3 .  .  "*d y  into  my  b 

[i?:  hides  I     fmet  on  Bv:n:      I  -<**£. 

F.rs  .-:  .:. .-  ml --  :me 
What  is  your  pTesent  pn  i 

WALXJ  Of. 

w- 

Courag-  I  .  :  ::.    . 

Still  lo^         ;         ...  i  Hie  moment 

I  .:  immasb  :;. 
I:  C     _ •:     ..  -  :   . "    "    .  :.-.  -:~. 

rite  nc  more       Think  not  hie  I 
that  12k  pang  _  ejon 

Is  that  s  the]       .       N     m:re  or  frfm 

Dear  to  my  heart 

And  the         ig>  man  —  yes  —  he  Love  me 

He — he  —  has  not   le  me.     Bui  enoagb 

Enough     Ethis ift  : 

The  comiei   wh  m  .v       ■  from  ] 

[expect  m:  men:  .7'  7: 

He  m:         ing  a  m 

I .   .-> .--   .~.  ......     :  .       :iri 


246  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Despatch  some  messenger  you  can  rely  on 
To  meet  him,  and  conduct  him  to  me. 

[Illo  is  going. 

butlee  {detaining  him). 

My  general,  whom  expect  you  then  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  courier 
Who  brings  me  word  of  the  event  at  Prague. 

butler  {hesitating). 
Hem! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  what  now  ? 

BUTLER. 

You  do  not  know  it  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Well? 

BUTLER. 

From  what  that  larum  in  the  camp  arose  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

From  what  ? 

BUTLER. 

That  courier  — 

WALLENSTEIN  (with  eager  expectation). 

Well? 

BUTLER. 

Is  already  here. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  247 

terzky  and  illo  (at  the  same  time'). 
Already  here  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

My  courier  ? 

BUTLER. 

For  some  hours. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  I  not  know  it  ? 

BUTLER. 

The  sentinels  detain  him 
In  custody. 

ILLO  (stamping  with  his  foot). 
Damnation  ! 

BUTLER. 

And  his  letter 
Was  broken  open,  and  is  circulated 
Through  the  whole  camp. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You  know  what  it  contains  ? 

BUTLER. 

Question  me  not ! 

TERZKY. 

Illo  !  alas  for  us. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Hide  nothing  from  me  —  I  can  bear  the  worst. 
Prague  then  is  lost.     It  is.     Confess  it  freely. 


248  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

BUTLER. 

Yes !  Prague  is  lost.     And  all  the  several  regiments 

At  Budweiss,  Tabor,  Braunau,  Konigingratz, 

At  Brunn,  and  Znaym,  have  forsaken  you, 

And  taken  the  oaths  of  fealty  anew 

To  the  emperor.     Yourself,  with  Kinsky,  Terzky, 

And  Illo  have  been  sentenced. 

[Tekzky  and  Illo  express  alarm  and  fury.    Wal- 
lenstein  remains  firm  and  collected. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Tis  decided ! 
'Tis  well !     I  have  received  a  sudden  cure 
From  all  the  pangs  of  doubt :  with  steady  stream 
Once  more  my  life-blood  flows  !     My  soul's  secure ! 
In  the  night  only  Friedland  stars  can  beam. 
Lingering  irresolute,  with  fitful  fears 
I  drew  the  sword  —  'twas  with  an  inward  strife, 
While  yet  the  choice  was  mine.     The  murderous  knife 
Is  lifted  for  my  heart !     Doubt  disappears  ! 
I  fight  now  for  my  head  and  for  my  life. 

[Exit  Wallenstein  ;  the  others  follow  him. 


Scene  XI. 

COUNTESS  TERZKY  (enters  from  a  side  room). 

I  can  endure  no  longer.     No  !  [Looks  around  her. 

Where  are  they  ! 
No  one  is  here.     They  leave  me  all  alone, 
Alone  in  this  sore  anguish  of  suspense. 
And  I  must  wear  the  outward  show  of  calmness 
Before  my  sister,  and  shut  in  within  me 
The  pangs  and  agonies  of  my  crowded  bosom. 
It  is  not  to  be  borne.     If  all  should  fail ; 
If  —  if  he  must  go  over  to  the  Swedes, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  249 

An  empty-handed  fugitive,  and  not 

As  an  ally,  a  covenanted  equal, 

A  proud  commander  with  his  army  following, 

If  we  must  wander  on  from  land  to  land, 

Like  the  Count  Palatine,  of  fallen  greatness 

An  ignominious  monument.     But  no  ! 

That  day  I  will  not  see !     And  could  himself 

Endure  to  sink  so  low,  I  would  not  bear 

To  see  him  so  low  sunken. 


Scene  XII. 

Countess,  Duchess,  Thekla. 

thekla  (endeavouring  to  hold  back  the  duchess). 
Dear  mother,  do  stay  here ! 

DUCHESS. 

No  !     Here  is  yet 
Some  frightful  mystery  that  is  hidden  from  me. 
Why  does  my  sister  shun  me  ?     Don't  I  see  her 
Full  of  suspense  and  anguish  roam  about 
From  room  to  room  ?     Art  thou  not  full  of  terror  ? 
And  what  import  these  silent  nods  and  gestures 
Which  stealth  wise  thou  exchangest  with  her  ? 

THEKLA. 

Nothing 
Nothing,  dear  mother ! 

DUCHESS  (to  the  COUNTESS). 
Sister,  I  will  know. 


250  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

COUNTESS. 

What  boots  it  now  to  hide  it  from  her  ?     Sooner 

Or  later  she  must  learn  to  hear  and  bear  it. 

'Tis  not  the  time  now  to  indulge  infirmity ; 

Courage  beseems  us  now,  a  heart  collect, 

And  exercise  and  previous  discipline 

Of  fortitude.     One  word,  and  over  with  it ! 

Sister,  you  are  deluded.     You  believe 

The  duke  has  been  deposed  —  the  duke  is  not 

Deposed  —  he  is  — 

thekla  {going  to  the  COUNTESS). 

What  ?  do  you  wish  to  kill  her  ? 

COUNTESS. 

The  duke  is  — 

thekla  (throwing  her  arms  around  her  mother). 

Oh,  stand  firm !  stand  firm,  my  mother ! 

COUNTESS. 

Revolted  is  the  duke ;  he  is  preparing 
To  join  the  enemy ;  the  army  leave  him, 
And  all  has  failed. 


Scene  XIII. 
A  spacious  room  in  the  Duke  of  Friedland's  Palace. 

wallenstein  (in  armour). 

Thou  hast  gained  thy  point,  Octavio  !    Once  more  am  I 
Almost  as  friendless  as  at  Eegensburg. 
There  I  had  nothing  left  me  but  myself ; 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  251 

But  what  one  man  can  do  you  have  now  experience. 

The  twigs  have  you  hewed  off,  and  here  I  stand 

A  leafless  trunk.     But  in  the  sap  within 

Lives  the  creating  power,  and  a  new  world 

May  sprout  forth  from  it.     Once  already  have  I 

Proved  myself  worth  an  army  to  you  —  I  alone  ! 

Before  the  Swedish  strength  your  troops  had  melted ; 

Beside  the  Lech  sank  Tilly,  your  last  hope ; 

Into  Bavaria,  like  a  winter  torrent, 

Did  that  Gustavus  pour,  and  at  Vienna 

In  his  own  palace  did  the  emperor  tremble. 

Soldiers  were  scarce,  for  still  the  multitude 

Follow  the  luck :  all  eyes  were  turned  on  me, 

Their  helper  in  distress ;  the  emperor's  pride 

Bowed  itself  down  before  the  man  he  had  injured. 

'Twas  I  must  rise,  and  with  creative  word 

Assemble  forces  in  the  desolate  camps. 

I  did  it.     Like  a  god  of  war  my  name 

Went  through  the  world.     The  drum  was  beat;  and, 

lo! 
The  plough,  the  workshop  is  forsaken,  all 
Swarm  to  the  old  familiar  long-loved  banners ; 
And  as  the  wood-choir  rich  in  melody 
Assemble  quick  around  the  bird  of  wonder, 
When  first  his  throat  swells  with  his  magic  song, 
So  did  the  warlike  youth  of  Germany 
Crowd  in  around  the  image  of  my  eagle. 
I  feel  myself  the  being  that  I  was. 
It  is  the  soul  that  builds  itself  a  body, 
And  Friedland's  camp  will  not  remain  unfilled. 
Lead  then  your  thousands  out  to  meet  me  —  true  ! 
They  are  accustomed  under  me  to  conquer, 
But  not  against  me.     If  the  head  and  kmbs 
Separate  from  each  other,  'twill  be  soon 
Made  manifest  in  which  the  soul  abode. 

[Illo  and  Terzky  enter. 
Courage,  friends  !  courage  !  we  are  still  unvanquished ; 


252  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

I  feel  my  footing  firm ;  five  regiments,  Terzky, 
Are  still  our  own,  and  Butler's  gallant  troops ; 
And  an  host  of  sixteen  thousand  Swedes  to-morrow. 
I  was  not  stronger  when,  nine  years  ago, 
I  marched  forth,  with  glad  heart  and  high  of  hope, 
To  conquer  Germany  for  the  emperor. 


Scene  XIV. 

Wallenstein,  Illo,  Terzky. 

(To  them  enter  Neumann,  who  leads  Terzky  aside,  and 

talks  with  him.) 

TERZKY. 

What  do  they  want  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  now  ? 

TERZKY. 

Ten  cuirassiers 
From  Pappenheim  request  leave  to  address  you 
In  the  name  of  the  regiment. 

WALLENSTEIN  (hastily  to  NEUMANN). 

Let  them  enter. 

[Exit  Neumann. 
This 
May  end  in  something.     Mark  you.     They  are  still 
Doubtful,  and  may  be  won. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  253 


Scene  XV. 

Wallenstein,  Terzky,  Illo,  ten  Cuirassieks  (led  by 
an  Anspessade,  *  march  up  and  arrange  them- 
selves, after  the  word  of  command,  in  one  front  be- 
fore the  Duke,  and  make  their  obeisance.  He  takes 
his  hat  off,  and  immediately  covers  himself  again). 

ANSPESSADE. 

Halt!     Front!  Present! 

wallenstein  (after  he  has  run  through  them  with  his 
eye,  to  the  ANSPESSADE). 

I  know  thee  well.    Thou  art  out  of  Bruggen  in  Flanders : 
Thy  name  is  Mercy. 

ANSPESSADE. 

Henry  Mercy. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thou  wert  cut  off  on  the  march,  surrounded  by  the 
Hessians,  and  didst  fight  thy  way  with  an  hundred  and 
eighty  men  through  their  thousand. 

ANSPESSADE. 

'Twas  even  so,  general ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  reward  hadst  thou  for  this  gallant  exploit  ? 

1  Anspessade,  in  German,  Gefreiter,  a  soldier  inferior  to  a  cor- 
poral, but  above  the  sentinels.  The  German  name  implies  that 
he  is  exempt  from  mounting  guard. 


254  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ANSPESSADE. 

That  which  I  asked  for :  the  honour  to  serve  in  this 
corps. 

wallenstein  (turning  to  a  second). 

Thou  wert  among  the  volunteers  that   seized   and 
made  booty  of  the  Swedish  battery  at  Altenburg. 

SECOND  CUIKASSIEK. 

Yes,  general 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  forget  no  one  with  whom  I  have  exchanged  words. 
(A  pause)     Who  sends  you  ? 

ANSPESSADE. 

Your  noble  regiment,  the  cuirassiers  of  Piccolomini. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Why  does  not  your  colonel  deliver  in  your  request 
according  to  the  custom  of  service  ? 

ANSPESSADE. 

Because  we  would  first  know  whom  we  serve. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Begin  your  address. 

anspessade  (giving  the  word  of  command). 
Shoulder  your  arms ! 

wallenstein  (turning  to  a  third). 
Thy  name  is  Risbeck ;  Cologne  is  thy  birthplace. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  255 


THIRD  CUIRASSIER. 


Kisbeck  of  Cologne. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

It  was  thou  that  broughtest  in  the  Swedish  colonel 
Dubald,  prisoner,  in  the  camp  at  Nuremberg. 

THIRD  CUIRASSIER. 

It  was  not  I,  general. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Perfectly  right !     It   was  thy  elder  brother :  thou 
hadst  a  younger  brother,  too :  where  did  he  stay  ? 

THIRD    CUIRASSIER. 

He  is  stationed  at  Olmutz,  with  the  imperial  army. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  the  ANSPESSADE). 

Now  then  —  begin. 

ANSPESSADE. 

There  came  to  hand  a  letter  from  the  emperor 
Commanding  us  — 

WALLENSTEIN  (interrupting  him). 
Who  chose  you  ? 

ANSPESSADE. 

Every  company 


Drew  its  own  man  by  lot. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Now !  to  the  business. 


2  s 6  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ANSPESSADE. 

There  came  to  hand  a  letter  from  the  emperor 
Commanding  us,  collectively,  from  thee 
All  duties  of  obedience  to  withdraw, 
Because  thou  wert  an  enemy  and  traitor. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  what  did  you  determine  ? 

ANSPESSADE. 

All  our  comrades 
At  Braunau,  Budweiss,  Prague,  and  Olmutz,  have 
Obeyed  already  ;  and  the  regiments  here, 
Tiefenbach  and  Toscano,  instantly 
Did  follow  their  example.     But  —  but  we 
Do  not  believe  that  thou  art  an  enemy 
And  traitor  to  thy  country,  hold  it  merely 
For  lie  and  trick,  and  a  trumped-up  Spanish  story  ! 

[With  warmth. 
Thyself  shall  tell  us  what  thy  purpose  is, 
For  we  have  found  thee  still  sincere  and  true : 
No  mouth  shall  interpose  itself  betwixt 
The  gallant  general  and  the  gallant  troops. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Therein  I  recognise  my  Pappenheimers. 

ANSPESSADE. 

And  this  proposal  makes  thy  regiment  to  thee : 

Is  it  thy  purpose  merely  to  preserve 

In  thine  own  hands  this  military  sceptre, 

Which  so  becomes  thee,  which  the  emperor 

Made  over  to  thee  by  a  covenant  ? 

Is  it  thy  purpose  merely  to  remain 

Supreme  commander  of  the  Austrian  armies  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  257 

We  will  stand  by  thee,  general !  and  guarantee 
Thy  honest  rights  against  all  opposition. 
And  should  it  chance  that  all  the  other  regiments 
Turn  from  thee,  by  ourselves  we  will  stand  forth 
Thy  faithful  soldiers,  and,  as  is  our  duty, 
Far  rather  let  ourselves  be  cut  to  pieces 
Than  suffer  thee  to  fall.     But  if  it  be 
As  the  emperor's  letter  says,  if  it  be  true, 
That  thou  in  traitorous  wise  wilt  lead  us  over 
To  the  enemy,  which  God  in  heaven  forbid ! 
Then  we  too  will  forsake  thee,  and  obey 
That  letter  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Hear  me,  children ! 

ANSPESSADE. 

Yes,  or  no. 
There  needs  no  other  answer. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Yield  attention. 
You're  men  of  sense,  examine  for  yourselves ; 
Ye  think,  and  do  not  follow  with  the  herd : 
And  therefore  have  I  always  shown  you  honour 
Above  all  others,  suffered  you  to  reason ; 
Have  treated  you  as  free  men,  and  my  orders 
Were  but  the  echoes  of  your  prior  suffrage. 

ANSPESSADE. 

Most  fair  and  noble  has  thy  conduct  been 

To  us,  my  general !     With  thy  confidence 

Thou  hast  honoured  us,  and  shown  us  grace  and  favour 

Beyond  all  other  regiments ;  and  thou  seest 

We  follow  not  the  common  herd.     We  will 

Stand  by  thee  faithfully.     Speak  but  one  word  — 


258  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Thy  word  shall  satisfy  us  that  it  is  not 
A  treason  which  thou  meditatest  —  that 
Thou  meanest  not  to  lead  the  army  over 
To  the  enemy ;  nor  e'er  betray  thy  country. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Me,  me  are  they  betraying.     The  emperor 

Hath  sacrificed  me  to  my  enemies, 

And  I  must  fall,  unless  my  gallant  troops 

Will  rescue  me.     See !     I  confide  in  you. 

And  be  your  hearts  my  stronghold !     At  this  breast 

The  aim  is  taken,  at  this  hoary  head. 

This  is  your  Spanish  gratitude,  this  is  our 

Requital  for  that  murderous  fight  at  Liitzen ! 

For  this  we  threw  the  naked  breast  against 

The  halbert,  made  for  this  the  frozen  earth 

Our  bed,  and  the  hard  stone  our  pillow !  never  stream 

Too  rapid  for  us,  nor  wood  too  impervious ; 

With  cheerful  spirit  we  pursued  that  Mansfeldt 

Through  all  the  turns  and  windings  of  his  flight : 

Yea,  our  whole  life  was  but  one  restless  march : 

And  homeless,  as  the  stirring  wind,  we  travelled 

O'er  the  war-wasted  earth.     And  now,  even  now, 

That  we  have  well-nigh  finished  the  hard  toil, 

The  unthankful,  the  curse-laden  toil  of  weapons, 

With  faithful  indefatigable  arm 

Have  rolled  the  heavy  war-load  up  the  hill, 

Behold  !  this  boy  of  the  emperor's  bears  away 

The  honours  of  the  peace,  an  easy  prize ! 

He'll  weave,  forsooth,  into  his  flaxen  locks 

The  olive-branch,  the  hard-earned  ornament 

Of  this  gray  head,  grown  gray  beneath  the  helmet. 

ANSPESSADE. 

That  shall  he  not,  while  we  can  hinder  it ! 
No  one,  but  thou,  who  hast  conducted  it 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  259 

With  fame,  shall  end  this  war,  this  frightful  war. 

Thou  leadest  us  out  to  the  bloody  field 

Of    death;    thou    and    no    other    shalt    conduct    us 

home, 
Ee joicing,  to  the  lovely  plains  of  peace  — 
Shalt  share  with  us  the  fruits  of  the  long  toil. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

What !  Think  you  then  at  length  in  late  old  age 

To  enjoy  the  fruits  of  toil  ?     Believe  it  not. 

Never,  no  never,  will  you  see  the  end 

Of  the  contest !  you  and  me,  and  all  of  us, 

This  war  will  swallow  up !     War,  war,  not  peace, 

Is  Austria's  wish ;  and  therefore,  because  I 

Endeavoured  after  peace,  therefore  I  fall. 

For  what  cares  Austria  how  long  the  war 

Wears  out  the  armies  and  lays  waste  the  world ! 

She  will  but  wax  and  grow  amid  the  ruin 

And  still  win  new  domains. 

[The  Cuikassieks  express  agitation  by  their  gestures. 

Ye're  moved  —  I  see 
A  noble  rage  flash  from  your  eyes,  ye  warriors  ! 
Oh,  that  my  spirit  might  possess  you  now 
Daring  as  once  it  led  you  to  the  battle ! 
Ye  would  stand  by  me  with  your  veteran  arms, 
Protect  me  in  my  rights ;  and  tins  is  noble ! 
But  think  not  that  you  can  accomplish  it. 
Your  scanty  number !  to  no  purpose  will  you 
Have  sacrificed  you  for  your  general.      [Confidentially. 
No !  let  us  tread  securely,  seek  for  friends ; 
The  Swedes  have  proffered  us  assistance,  let  us 
Wear  for  a  while  the  appearance  of  good- will, 
And  use  them  for  your  profit,  till  we  both 
Carry  the  fate  of  Europe  in  our  hands, 
And  from  our  camp  to  the  glad  jubilant  world 
Lead  peace  forth  with  the  garland  on  her  head ! 


260  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ANSPESSADE. 

"lis  then  but  mere  appearances  which  thou 
Dost  put  on  with  the  Swede  !     Thou'lt  not  betray 
The  ernperor  ?     Wilt  not  turn  us  into  Swedes  ? 
This  is  the  only  thing  which  we  desire 
To  learn  from  thee. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  care  I  for  the  Swedes  ? 
I  hate  them  as  I  hate  the  pit  of  hell, 
And  under  Providence  I  trust  right  soon 
To  chase  them  to  their  homes  across  their  Baltic. 
My  cares  are  only  for  the  whole :  I  have 
A  heart  —  it  bleeds  within  me  for  the  miseries 
And  piteous  groanings  of  my  fellow  Germans. 
Ye  are  but  common  men,  but  yet  ye  think 
With  minds  not  common ;  ye  appear  to  me 
Worthy  before  all  others,  that  I  whisper  thee 
A  little  word  or  two  in  confidence  ! 
See  now !  already  for  full  fifteen  years, 
The  war-torch  has  continued  burning,  yet 
No  rest,  no  pause  of  conflict.     Swede  and  German, 
Papist  and  Lutheran  !  neither  will  give  way 
To  the  other ;  every  hand's  against  the  other. 
Each  one  is  party  and  no  one  a  judge. 
Where  shall  this  end  ?     Where's  he  that  will  unravel 
This  tangle,  ever  tangling  more  and  more  ? 
It  must  be  cut  asunder. 
I  feel  that  I  am  the  man  of  destiny, 
And  trust,  with  your  assistance,  to  accomplish  it. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  261 

Scene  XVI 
To  these  enter  Butlek. 
butler  (passionately). 


General !  this  is  not  right ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 

What  is  not  right  ? 

BUTLER. 

It  must  needs  injure  us  with  all  honest  men. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

But  what  ? 

BUTLER. 

It  is  an  open  proclamation 
Of  insurrection. 

WALLENSTEIN. 


Well,  well  —  but  what  is  it  ? 

BUTLER. 

Count  Terzky's  regiments  tear  the  imperial  eagle 
From  off  his  banners,  and  instead  of  it 
Have  reared  aloft  their  arms. 

anspessade  (abruptly  to  the  cuirassiers). 

Eight  about !     March  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Cursed  be  this  counsel,  and  accursed  who  gave  it ! 

[To  the  Cuirassiers,  who  are  retiring. 
Halt,  children,  halt !     There's  some  mistake  in  this ; 


262  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Hark  !     I  will  punish  it  severely.     Stop  ! 

They  do  not  hear.     {To  Illo.)     Go  after  them,  assure 

them, 
And  bring  them  back  to  me,  cost  what  it  may. 

[Illo  hurries  out. 
This  hurls  us  headlong.     Butler  !  Butler  ! 
You  are  my  evil  genius,  wherefore  must  you 
Announce  it  in  their  presence  ?     It  was  all 
In  a  fair  way.     They  were  half  won  !  those  madmen 
With  their  improvident  over-readiness  — 
A  cruel  game  is  Fortune  playing  with  me. 
The  zeal  of  friends  it  is  that  razes  me, 
And  not  the  hate  of  enemies. 


Scene  XVII. 

To  these  enter  the  Duchess,  who  rushes  into  the  chamber ; 
Thekla  and  the  Countess  follow  her. 

duchess. 

0  Albrecht ! 
What  hast  thou  done  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  now  comes  this  beside. 

COUNTESS. 

Forgive  me,  brother  !     It  was  not  in  my  power  — 
They  know  all. 

DUCHESS. 

What  hast  thou  done  ? 


COUNTESS  {to  TEKZKY). 

Is  there  no  hope  ?     Is  all  lost  utterly  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  263 

TEEZKY. 

All  lost.     No  hope.     Prague  in  the  emperor's  hands, 
The  soldiery  have  taken  their  oaths  anew. 

COUNTESS. 

That  lurking  hypocrite,  Octavio  ! 
Count  Max.  is  off  too. 

TERZKY. 

Where  can  he  be  ?     He's 
Gone  over  to  the  emperor  with  his  father. 

[Thekla  rushes  out  into  the  arms  of  her  mother, 
hiding  her  face  in  her  hosom. 

duchess  (enfolding  her  in  her  arms). 
Unhappy  child  !  and  more  unhappy  mother ! 

wallenstein  (aside  to  terzky). 

Quick  !     Let  a  carriage  stand  in  readiness 
In  the  court  behind  the  palace.     Scherfenberg, 
Be  their  attendant ;  he  is  faithful  to  us. 
To  Egra  he'll  conduct  them,  and  we  follow. 

\_To  Illo,  who  returns. 
Thou  hast  not  brought  them  back  ? 

ILLO. 

Hear'st  thou  the  uproar  ? 
The  whole  corps  of  the  Pappenheimers  is 
Drawn  out :  the  younger  Piccolomini, 
Their  colonel,  they  require :  for  they  affirm, 
That  he  is  in  the  palace  here,  a  prisoner ; 
And  if  thou  dost  not  instantly  deliver  him, 
They  will  find  means  to  free  him  with  the  sword. 

[All  stand  amazed. 


264  THE   DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

TERZKY. 
What  shall  we  make  of  this  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Said  I  not  so  ? 

0  my  prophetic  heart !  he  is  still  here. 

He  has  not  betrayed  me  —  he  could  not  betray  me. 

1  never  doubted  of  it. 

COUNTESS. 

If  he  be 
Still  here,  then  all  goes  well ;  for  I  know  what 

[Embracing  Thekla. 
Will  keep  him  here  for  ever. 

TEKZKY. 

It  can't  be. 
His  father  has  betrayed  us,  is  gone  over 
To  the  emperor  —  the  son  could  not  have  ventured 
To  stay  behind. 

thekla  (her  eye  fixed  on  the  door). 
There  he  is ! 


Scene  XVIII. 
To  these  enter  Max.  Piccolomini. 

max. 

Yes,  here  he  is !     I  can  endure  no  longer 

To  creep  on  tiptoe  round  this  house,  and  lurk 

In  ambush  for  a  favourable  moment : 

This  loitering,  this  suspense  exceeds  my  powers. 

[Advancing  to  Thekla,  who  has  thrown  herself 
into  her  mother's  arms. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  265 

Turn  not  thine  eyes  away.     0  look  upon  me ! 
Confess  it  freely  before  all.     Fear  no  one. 
Let  who  will  hear  that  we  both  love  each  other. 
Wherefore  continue  to  conceal  it  ?     Secrecy 
Is  for  the  happy  —  misery,  hopeless  misery, 
Needeth  no  veil !     Beneath  a  thousand  suns 
It  dares  act  openly. 

[Re  observes  the  Countess  looking  on  Thekla  with 
expressions  of  triumph. 
No,  lady !     No ! 
Expect  not,  hope  it  not.     I  am  not  come 
To  stay :  to  bid  farewell,  farewell  for  ever. 
For  this  I  come  !     Tis  over  !  I  must  leave  thee  ! 
Thekla,  I  must  —  must  leave  thee  !     Yet  thy  hatred 
Let  me  not  take  with  me.     I  pray  thee,  grant  me 
One  look  of  sympathy,  only  one  look. 
Say  that  thou  dost  not  hate  me.    Say  it  to  me,  Thekla ! 

[Grasps  her  hand. 

0  God  !  I  cannot  leave  this  spot  —  I  cannot ! 
Cannot  let  go  this  hand.     0,  tell  me,  Thekla ! 
That  thou  dost  suffer  with  me,  art  convinced 
That  I  cannot  act  otherwise. 

[Thekla,  avoiding  his  look,  points  with  her  hand 
to  her  father.     Max.   turns  around  to   the 
Duke,  whom  he  had  not  till  then  perceived. 
Thou  here  ?     It  was  not  thou  whom  here  I  sought. 

1  trusted  never  more  to  have  beheld  thee ; 
My  business  is  with  her  alone.     Here  will  I 
Eeceive  a  full  acquittal  from  this  heart ; 
For  any  other  I  am  no  more  concerned. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Think'st  thou  that,  fool-like,  I  shall  let  thee  go, 
And  act  the  mock-magnanimous  with  thee  ? 
Thy  father  is  become  a  villain  to  me ; 
I  hold  thee  for  his  son,  and  nothing  more : 
Nor  to  no  purpose  shalt  thou  have  been  given 


266  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Into  my  power.     Think  not,  that  I  will  honour 
That  ancient  love,  which  so  remorselessly 
He  mangled.     They  are  now  passed  by,  those  hours 
Of  friendship  and  forgiveness.     Hate  and  vengeance 
Succeed  —  'tis  now  their  turn  —  I  too  can  throw 
All  feelings  of  the  man  aside  —  can  prove 
Myself  as  much  a  monster  as  thy  father ! 

max  {calmly). 

Thou  wilt  proceed  with  me  as  thou  hast  power. 
Thou  knowest  I  neither  brave  nor  fear  thy  rage. 
What  has  detained  me  here,  that  too  thou  knowest. 

[Taking  Thekla  by  the  hand. 
See,  duke  !     All  —  all  would  I  have  owed  to  thee, 
Would  have  received  from  thy  paternal  hand 
The  lot  of  blessed  spirits.     This  hast  thou 
Laid  waste  for  ever  —  that  concerns  not  thee. 
Indifferent  thou  tramplest  in  the  dust 
Their  happiness  who  most  are  thine.     The  God 
Whom  thou  dost  serve  is  no  benignant  deity. 
Like  as  the  blind,  irreconcilable, 
Fierce  element,  incapable  of  compact, 
Thy  heart's  wild  impulse  only  dost  thou  follow.1 

1 1  have  here  ventured  to  omit  a  considerable  number  of  lines. 
I  fear  that  I  should  not  have  done  amiss  had  I  taken  this  liberty 
more  frequently.  It  is,  however,  incumbent  on  me  to  give  the 
original,  with  a  literal  translation. 

"  Weh  denen,  die  auf  Dich  vertraun,  an  Dich 
Die  sichre  Hutte  ihres  Gliickes  lehnen, 
Gelockt  von  deiner  geistlichen  Gestalt. 
Schnell  unverhofft,  bei  nachtlich  stiller  Weile 
Gahrts  in  dem  tuckschen  Feuerschlunde,  ladet 
Sich  aus  mit  tobender  Gewalt,  und  weg 
Treibt  iiber  alle  Pflanzungen  der  Menschen 
Der  wilde  Strom  in  grausender  Zerstorung. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

"  Du  schilderst  deines  Vaters  Herz.     Wie  Du's 
Beschreibst,  so  ist's  in  seinein  Eingeweide, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  267 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thou  art  describing  thy  own  father's  heart. 

The  adder !     Oh,  the  charms  of  hell  o'erpowered  me  ! 

He  dwelt  within  me,  to  my  inmost  soul 

Still  to  and  fro  he  passed,  suspected  never. 

On  the  wide  ocean,  in  the  starry  heaven 

Did  mine  eyes  seek  the  enemy,  whom  I 

In  my  heart's  heart  had  folded !     Had  I  been 

To  Ferdinand  what  Octavio  was  to  me, 

War  had  1  ne'er  denounced  against  him.     No, 

I  never  could  have  done  it.     The  emperor  was 

My  austere  master  only,  not  my  friend. 

In  dieser  schwarzen  Heuchlers  Brust  gestaltet. 
Oh,  mich  hat  Hollenkunst  getauscht  !     Mir  sandte 
Der  Abgrund  den  verflecktesten  der  Geister, 
Den  Liigenkundigsten  herauf,  und  stellt'  ihn 
Als  Frennd  an  meiner  Seite.     Wer  verniag 
Der  Holle  Macht  zu  widerstehn  !  Ich  zog 
Den  Basilisken  auf  an  meinem  Busen, 
Mit  meinem  Herzblut  nahrt  ich  ihn,  er  sog 
Sich  schwelgend  voll  an  meiner  Liebe  Brusten, 
Ich  hatte  nimmer  Ares  gegen  ihn, 
Weit  offen  liess  ich  des  Gedankens  Thore, 
Und  warf  die  Schlussel  weiser  Vorsicht  weg, 
Am  Sternenhimmel,"  etc. 

LITERAL    TRANSLATION. 

"Alas!  for  those  who  place  their  confidence  on  thee,  against 
thee  lean  the  secure  hut  of  their  fortune,  allured  by  thy  hospita- 
ble form.  Suddenly,  unexpectedly,  in  a  moment  still  as  night, 
there  is  a  fermentation  in  the  treacherous  gulf  of  fire  ;  it  dis- 
charges itself  with  raging  force,  and  away  over  all  the  plantations 
of  men  drives  the  wild  stream  in  frightful  devastation.  Wallen- 
stein.  Thou  art  portraying  thy  father's  heart ;  as  thou  describest, 
even  so  is  it  shaped  in  his  entrails,  in  this  black  hypocrite's  breast. 
Oh,  the  art  of  hell  has  deceived  me  !  The  abyss  sent  up  to  me 
the  most  spotted  of  the  spirits,  the  most  skilful  in  lies,  and  placed 
him  as  a  friend  by  my  side.  Who  may  withstand  the  power  of 
hell  ?  I  took  the  basilisk  to  my  bosom,  with  my  heart's  blood 
I  nourished  him  ;  he  sucked  himself  glutfull  at  the  breasts  of  my 
love.  I  never  harboured  evil  toward  him  ;  wide  open  did  I  leave 
the  door  of  my  thoughts  ;  I  threw  away  the  key  of  wise  foresight. 
In  the  starry  heaven,"  etc.  We  find  a  difficulty  in  believing  this 
to  have  been  written  by  Schiller. 


268  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE1N 

There  was  already  war  'twixt  him  and  me 
When  he  delivered  the  commander's  staff 
Into  my  hands ;  for  there's  a  natural 
Unceasing  war  'twixt  cunning  and  suspicion ; 
Peace  exists  only  betwixt  confidence 
And  faith.     Who  poisons  confidence,  he  murders 
The  future  generations. 

MAX. 

I  will  not 
Defend  my  father.     Woe  is  me,  I  cannot ! 
Hard  deeds  and  luckless  have  taken  place ;  one  crime 
Drags  after  it  the  other  in  close  link. 
But  we  are  innocent :  how  have  we  fallen 
Into  this  circle  of  mishap  and  guilt  ? 
To  whom  have  we  been  faithless  ?     Wherefore  must 
The  evil  deeds  and  guilt  reciprocal 
Of  our  two  fathers  twine  like  serpents  round  us  ? 

Why  must  our  fathers' 
Unconquerable  hate  rend  us  asunder, 
Who  love  each  other  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Max.,  remain  with  me. 
Go  you  not  from  me,  Max. !    Hark  !  I  will  tell  thee  — 
How  when  at  Prague,  our  winter  quarters,  thou 
Wert  brought  into  my  tent  a  tender  boy, 
Not  yet  accustomed  to  the  German  winters ; 
Thy  hand  was  frozen  to  the  heavy  colours ; 
Thou  wouldst  not  let  them  go. 
At  that  time  did  I  take  thee  in  my  arms, 
And  with  my  mantle  did  I  cover  thee ; 
I  was  thy  nurse,  no  woman  could  have  been 
A  kinder  to  thee ;  I  was  not  ashamed 
To  do  for  thee  all  little  offices, 
However  strange  to  me ;  I  tended  thee 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  269 

Till  life  returned ;  and  when  thine  eyes  first  opened, 
I  had  thee  in  my  arms.     Since  then,  when  have 
Altered  my  f eelings  toward  thee  ?     Many  thousands 
Have  I  made  rich,  presented  them  with  lands ; 
Eewarded  them  with  dignities  and  honours ; 
Thee  have  I  loved :  my  heart,  my  self,  I  gave 
To  thee  ;  they  all  were  aliens  :  thou  wert 
Our  child  and  inmate.1     Max. !   Thou  canst  not  leave 

me; 
It  cannot  be ;  I  may  not,  will  not  think 
That  Max.  can  leave  me. 


MAX. 

Oh,  my  God ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  have 
Held  and  sustained  thee  from  thy  tottering  childhood. 
What  holy  bond  is  there  of  natural  love, 
What  human  tie  that  does  not  knit  thee  to  me  ? 
I  love  thee,  Max. !     What  did  thy  father  for  thee, 
Which  I  too  have  not  done,  to  the  height  of  duty  ? 
Go  hence,  forsake  me,  serve  thy  emperor ; 
He  will  reward  thee  with  a  pretty  chain 
Of  gold ;  with  his  ram's  fleece  will  he  reward  thee ; 
For  that  the  friend,  the  father  of  thy  youth, 
For  that  the  holiest  feeling  of  humanity, 
Was  nothing  worth  to  thee. 

JThis  a  poor  and  inadequate  translation  of  the  affectionate 
simplicity  of  the  original,  — 

"Sie  alle  waren  Fremdlinge,  Du  warst 
Das  Kind  des  Hauses." 

Indeed  the  whole  speech  is  in  the  best  style  of  Massinger.     0 
si  sic  omnia ! 


270  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

MAX. 

0  God  !  how  can  I 
Do  otherwise.     Am  I  not  forced  to  do  it, 
My  oath  —  my  duty  —  my  honour  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

How  ?    Thy  duty  ? 
Duty  to  whom  ?    Who  art  thou  ?    Max. !  bethink  thee 
What  duties  may'st  thou  have  ?     If  I  am  acting 
A  criminal  part  toward  the  emperor, 
It  is  my  crime,  not  thine.     Dost  thou  belong 
To  thine  own  self  ?     Art  thou  thine  own  commander  ? 
Stand'st  thou,  like  me,  a  freeman  in  the  world, 
That  in  thy  actions  thou  shouldst  plead  free  agency  ? 
On  me  thou  art  planted,  I  am  thy  emperor ; 
To  obey  me,  to  belong  to  me,  this  is 
Thy  honour,  this  a  law  of  nature  to  thee ! 
And  if  the  planet  on  the  which  thou  livest 
And  hast  thy  dwelling,  from  its  orbit  starts, 
It  is  not  in  thy  choice,  whether  or  no 
Thou'lt  follow  it.     Unfelt  it  whirls  thee  onward 
Together  with  his  ring,  and  all  his  moons. 
With  little  guilt  steppest  thou  into  this  contest ; 
Thee  will  the  world  not  censure,  it  will  praise  thee, 
For  that  thou  held'st  thy  friend  more  worth  to  thee 
Than  names  and  influences  more  removed ; 
For  justice  is  the  virtue  of  the  ruler, 
Affection  and  fidelity  the  subject's. 
Not  every  one  doth  it  beseem  to  question 
The  far-off  high  Arcturus.     Most  securely 
Wilt  thou  pursue  the  nearest  duty :  let 
The  pilot  fix  his  eye  upon  the  pole-star. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  271 

Scene  XIX. 
To  these  enter  Neumann. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  now  ? 

NEUMANN. 

The  Pappenheimers  are  dismounted, 
And  are  advancing  now  on  foot,  determined 
With  sword  in  hand  to  storm  the  house,  and  free 
The  count,  their  colonel. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to  TERZKY). 

Have  the  cannon  planted. 
I  will  receive  them  with  chain-shot.  [Exit  Terzky. 

Prescribe  to  me  with  sword  in  hand !     Go,  Neumann  ! 
'Tis  my  command  that  they  retreat  this  moment, 
And  in  their  ranks  in  silence  wait  my  pleasure. 

[Neumann  exit.     Illo  steps  to  the  window. 

COUNTESS. 

Let  him  go,  I  entreat  thee,  let  him  go. 

ILLO  [at  the  window). 
Hell  and  perdition  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  is  it  ? 

ILLO. 

They  scale  the  council-house,  the  roofs  uncovered, 
They  level  at  this  house  the  cannon  — 


272  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

MAX. 

Madmen. 

ILLO. 

They  are  making  preparations  now  to  fire  on  us. 

duchess  and  countess. 
Merciful  heaven ! 

MAX.  {to  WALLENSTEIN). 

Let  me  go  to  them ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Not  a  step ! 

max.  (pointing  to  thekla  and  the  duchess). 
But  their  life  !     Thine  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  tidings  bringest  thou,  Terzky  ? 


Scene   XX. 
To  these  Tekzky  returning. 

TEKZKY. 

Message  and  greeting  from  our  faithful  regiments. 
Their  ardour  may  no  longer  be  curbed  in. 
They  entreat  permission  to  commence  the  attack ; 
And  if  thou  wouldst  but  give  the  word  of  onset 
They  could  now  charge  the  enemy  in  rear, 
Into  the  city  wedge  them,  and  with  ease 
O'erpower  them  in  the  narrow  streets. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  273 

ILLO. 

Oh,  come, 
Let  not  their  ardour  cool.     The  soldiery 
Of  Butler's  corps  stand  by  us  faithfully ; 
We  are  the  greater  number.     Let  us  charge  them 
And  finish  here  in  Pilsen  the  revolt. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  ?  shall  this  town  become  a  field  of  slaughter, 

And  brother-killing  discord,  fire-eyed, 

Be  let  loose  through  its  streets  to  roam  and  rage  ? 

Shall  the  decision  be  delivered  over 

To  deaf  remorseless  rage,  that  hears  no  leader  ? 

Here  is  not  room  for  battle,  only  for  butchery. 

Well,  let  it  be !     I  have  long  thought  of  it, 

So  let  it  burst  then !  [Turns  to  Max. 

Well,  how  is  it  with  thee  ? 
Wilt  thou  attempt  a  heat  with  me  ?     Away  ! 
Thou  art  free  to  go.     Oppose  thyself  to  me, 
Front  against  front,  and  lead  them  to  the  battle ; 
Thou'rt  skilled  in  war,  thou  hast   learned  somewhat 

under  me, 
I  need  not  be  ashamed  of  my  opponent, 
And  never  hadst  thou  fairer  opportunity 
To  pay  me  for  thy  schooling. 

COUNTESS. 

Is  it  then, 
Can  it  have  come  to  this  ?     What !     Cousin,  cousin  ! 
Have  you  the  heart  ? 

MAX. 

The  regiments  that  are  trusted  to  my  care 
I  have  pledged  my  troth  to  bring  away  from  Pilsen 
True  to  the  emperor ;  and  this  promise  will  I 
Make  good,  or  perish.     More  than  this  no  duty 
Eequires  of  me.     I  will  not  fight  against  thee, 


274  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Unless  compelled ;  for  though  an  enemy, 
Thy  head  is  holy  to  me  still. 

[Two  reports  of  cannon.     Illo  and  Terzky  hurry 
to  the  window. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What's  that  ? 

TERZKY. 

He  falls. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Falls !     Who  ? 

ILLO. 

Tiefenbach's  corps 
Discharged  the  ordnance. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Upon  whom  ? 


ILLO. 

On  Neumann, 


Your  messenger. 


WALLENSTEIN  (starting  up). 

Ha  !     Death  and  hell !     I  will  — 

TERZKY. 

Expose  thyself  to  their  blind  frenzy  ? 

duchess  and  countess. 

No! 
For  God's  sake,  no  ! 

ILLO. 

Not  yet,  my  general ! 
Oh,  hold  him  !  hold  him  ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  275 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Leave  me  — 


MAX. 

Do  it  not ; 
Not  yet !     This  rash  and  bloody  deed  has  thrown  them 
Into  a  frenzy-fit  —  allow  them  time  — 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Away  !  too  long  already  have  I  loitered. 

They  are  emboldened  to  these  outrages, 

Beholding  not  my  face.     They  shall  behold 

My  countenance,  shall  hear  my  voice  — 

Are  they  not  my  troops  ?     Am  I  not  their  general, 

And  their  long-feared  commander !     Let  me  see, 

Whether  indeed  they  do  no  longer  know 

That  countenance  which  was  their  sun  in  battle ! 

From  the  balcony  (mark  !)  I  show  myself 

To  these  rebellious  forces,  and  at  once 

Eevolt  is  mounded,  and  the  high-swollen  current 

Shrinks  back  into  the  old  bed  of  obedience. 

[Exit  Wallenstein  ;  Illo,  Terzky,  and  Butler 
follow. 


Scene  XXI. 

Countess,  Duchess,  Max,  and  Thekla. 

countess  (to  the  duchess). 
Let  them  but  see  him  —  there  is  hope  still,  sister. 


DUCHESS. 

Hope  !  I  have  none  ! 


276  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Max.  (who  during  the  last  scene  has  been  standing  at  a 
distance,  in  a  visible  struggle  of  feelings,  advances). 

This  can  I  not  endure. 
With  most  determined  soul  did  I  come  hither ; 
My  purposed  action  seemed  unblamable 
To  my  own  conscience  —  and  I  must  stand  here. 
Like  one  abhorred,  a  hard,  inhuman  being : 
Yea,  loaded  with  the  curse  of  all  I  love  ! 
Must  see  all  whom  I  love  in  this  sore  anguish, 
Whom  I  with  one  word  can  make  happy  —  O ! 
My  heart  revolts  within  me,  and  two  voices 
Make  themselves  audible  within  my  bosom. 
My  soul's  benighted ;  I  no  longer  can 
Distinguish  the  right  track.     Oh,  well  and  truly 
Didst  thou  say,  father,  I  relied  too  much 
On  my  own  heart.     My  mind  moves  to  and  fro  — 
I  know  not  what  to  do. 

.    COUNTESS. 

What !  you  know  not  ? 
Does  not  your  own  heart  tell  you  ?     Oh !  then  I 
Will  tell  it  you.     Your  father  is  a  traitor, 
A  frightful  traitor  to  us  —  he  has  plotted 
Against  our  general's  life,  has  plunged  us  all 
In  misery  —  and  you're  his  son  !     'Tis  yours 
To  make  the  amends.     Make  you  the  son's  fidelity 
Outweigh  the  father's  treason,  that  the  name 
Of  Piccolomini  be  not  a  proverb 
Of  infamy,  a  common  form  of  cursing 
To  the  posterity  of  Wallenstein. 

MAX. 

Where  is  that  voice  of  truth  which  I  dare  follow ! 
It  speaks  no  longer  in  my  heart.     We  all 
But  utter  what  our  passionate  wishes  dictate : 
Oh,  that  an  angel  would  descend  from  heaven, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  277 

And  scoop  for  me  the  right,  the  uncorrupted, 
With  a  pure  hand  from  the  pure  Fount  of  light. 

[His  eyes  glance  on  Thekla. 
What  other  angel  seek  I  ?     To  this  heart, 
To  this  unerring  heart,  will  I  submit  it ; 
Will  ask  thy  love,  which  has  the  power  to  bless 
The  happy  man  alone,  averted  ever 
From  the  disquieted  and  guilty  —  canst  thou 
Still  love  me,  if  I  stay  ?     Say  that  thou  canst, 
And  I  am  the  duke's  — 

COUNTESS. 

Think,  niece  — 
MAX. 

Think  nothing,  Thekla ! 
Speak  what  thou  feelest. 

COUNTESS. 

Think  upon  your  father. 

MAX. 

I  did  not  question  thee,  as  Friedland's  daughter. 

Thee,  the  beloved  and  the  unerring  God 

Within  thy  heart,  I  question.     What's  at  stake  ? 

Not  whether  diadem  of  royalty 

Be  to  be  won  or  not  —  that  mightest  thou  think  on. 

Thy  friend,  and  his  soul's  quiet  are  at  stake : 

The  fortune  of  a  thousand  gallant  men, 

Who  will  all  follow  me ;  shall  I  forswear 

My  oath  and  duty  to  the  emperor  ? 

Say,  shall  I  send  into  Octavio's  camp 

The  parricidal  ball  ?     For  when  the  ball 

Has  left  its  cannon,  and  is  on  its  flight, 

It  is  no  longer  a  dead  instrument ! 

It  lives,  a  spirit  passes  into  it ; 


278  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

The  avenging  furies  seize  possession  of  it, 
And  with  sure  malice  guide  it  the  worst  way. 

THEKLA. 

Oh!  Max.— 

MAX.  (interrupting  her). 

Nay,  not  precipitately  either,  Thekla. 
I  understand  thee.     To  thy  noble  heart 
The  hardest  duty  might  appear  the  highest. 
The  human,  not  the  great  part,  would  I  act. 
Even  from  my  childhood  to  this  present  hour, 
Think  what  the  duke  has  done  for  me,  how  loved  me, 
And  think,  too,  how  my  father  has  repaid  him. 
Oh,  likewise  the  free  lovely  impulses 
Of  hospitality,  the  pious  friend's 
Faithful  attachment,  these,  too,  are  a  holy 
Eeligion  to  the  heart ;  and  heavily 
The  shudderings  of  nature  do  avenge 
Themselves  on  the  barbarian  that  insults  them. 
Lay  all  upon  the  balance,  all  —  then  speak, 
And  let  thy  heart  decide  it. 

THEKLA. 

Oh,  thy  own 
Hath  long  ago  decided.     Follow  thou 
Thy  heart's  first  feeling  — 

COUNTESS. 

Oh  !  ill-fated  woman ! 

THEKLA. 

Is  it  possible,  that  that  can  be  the  right, 
The  which  thy  tender  heart  did  not  at  first 
Detect  and  seize  with  instant  impulse  ?     Go, 
Fulfil  thy  duty !     I  should  ever  love  thee. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  279 

Whate'er  thou  hast  chosen,  thou  wouldst  still  have  acted 
Nobly  and  worthy  of  thee  —  but  repentance 
Shall  ne'er  disturb  thy  soul's  fair  peace. 

MAX. 

Then  I 
Must  leave  thee,  must  part  from  thee  ! 

THEKLA. 

Being  faithful 
To  thine  own  self,  thou  art  faithful,  too,  to  me  : 
If  our  fates  part,  our  hearts  remain  united. 
A  bloody  hatred  will  divide  for  ever 
The  houses  Piccolo  mini  and  Friedland ; 
But  we  belong  not  to  our  houses.     Go ! 
Quick  !  quick  !  and  separate  thy  righteous  cause 
From  our  unholy  and  unblessed  one ! 
The  curse  of  heaven  lies  upon  our  head : 
'Tis  dedicate  to  ruin.     Even  me 
My  father's  guilt  drags  with  it  to  perdition. 
Mourn  not  for  me  : 
My  destiny  will  quickly  be  decided. 

[Max.  clasps  her  in  his  arms  in  extreme  emotion. 

TJiere  is  heard  from  behind  the  scene  a  loud, 

wild,  long-continued  cry,  Vivat  Ferdinandus ! 

accompanied  by  warlike  instruments.     MAX. 

and  Thekla  remain  without  motion  in  each 

other  s  embraces. 


Scene  XXII. 

To  the  above  enter  Terzky. 

COUNTESS  (meeting  him). 
What  meant  that  cry  ?     What  was  it  ? 


280  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

TERZKY. 

All  is  lost ! 

COUNTESS. 

What !  they  regarded  not  his  countenance  ? 

TERZKY. 

'Twas  all  in  vain. 

DUCHESS. 

They  shouted  Vivat ! 

TERZKY. 

To  the  emperor. 

COUNTESS. 
TERZKY. 


The  traitors ! 


Nay  !  he  was  not  permitted 
Even  to  address  them.     Soon  as  he  began, 
With  deafening  noise  of  warlike  instruments 
They  drowned  his  words.     But  here  he  comes. 


Scene  XXIII. 

To  these  enter  Wallenstein,  accompanied  by  Illo  and 

Butler. 

wallenstein  (as  he  enters). 

Terzky ! 

TERZKY. 

My  general ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Let  our  regiments  hold  themselves 
In  readiness  to  march ;  for  we  shall  leave 
Pilsen  ere  evening.  [Exit  Terzky. 

Butler ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  281 

BUTLER. 

Yes,  my  general. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  Governor  of  Egra  is  your  friend 
And  countryman.     Write  him  instantly 
By  a  post  courier.     He  must  be  advised 
That  we  are  with  him  early  on  the  morrow. 
You  follow  us  yourself,  your  regiment  with  you. 

BUTLER. 

It  shall  be  done,  my  general ! 

wallenstein   (steps    between   max.  and  thekla,  who 
have  remained  during  this  time  in  each  other's  arms). 

Part! 

MAX. 

0  God ! 
[Cuirassiers  enter  with  drawn  swords,  and  as- 
semble in  the  background.  At  the  same  time 
there  are  heard  from  below  some  spirited  pas- 
sages out  of  the  Pappenheim  March,  which 
seem  to  address  Max. 

WALLENSTEIN  (to    the  CUIRASSIERS). 

Here  he  is,  he  is  at  liberty :  I  keep  him 
No  longer. 

[He  turns  away,  and  stands  so  that  Max.  cannot 
pass  by  him  nor  approach  the  Princess. 

max. 

Thou  know'st  that  I  have  not  yet  learnt  to  live 
Without  thee !  I  go  forth  into  a  desert, 
Leaving  my  all  behind  me.     Oh,  do  not  turn 


282  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Thine  eyes  away  from  me !     Oh,  once  more  show  me 
Thy  ever  dear  and  honoured  countenance. 

[Max.  attempts  to  take  his  hand,  but  is  repelled : 
he  turns  to  the  Countess. 
Is  there  no  eye  that  has  a  look  of  pity  for  me  ? 

[TJie  Countess  turns  away  from  him ;  he  turns 
to  the  Duchess. 
My  mother ! 

duchess. 

Go  where  duty  calls  you.     Haply 
The  time  may  come  when  you  may  prove  to  us 
A  true  friend,  a  good  angel  at  the  throne 
Of  the  emperor. 

MAX. 

You  give  me  hope  ;  you  would  not 
Suffer  me  wholly  to  despair.     No  !  no  ! 
Mine  is  a  certain  misery.     Thanks  to  heaven ! 
That  offers  me  a  means  of  ending  it. 

[The  military  music  begins  again.      Hie  stage  fills 

more  and  more  with  armed  men.     Max.  sees 

Butlek,  and  addresses  him. 
And  you  here,  Colonel  Butler  —  and  will  you 
Not  follow  me  ?     Well,  then,  remain  more  faithful 
To  your  new  lord  than  you  have  proved  yourself 
To  the  emperor.     Come,  Butler  !  promise  me. 
Give  me  your  hand  upon  it,  that  you'll  be 
The  guardian  of  his  life,  its  shield,  its  watchman. 
He  is  attainted,  and  his  princely  head 
Fair  booty  for  each  slave  that  trades  in  murder. 
Now  he  doth  need  the  faithful  eye  of  friendship, 
And  those  whom  here  I  see  — 

[Casting  suspicious  looks  on  Illo  and  Butlek. 

Illo. 

Go  —  seek  for  traitors 
In  Gallas',  in  your  father's  quarters.     Here 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  283 

Is  only  one.     Away  !  away  !  and  free  us 

From  his  detested  sight !     Away  ! 

[Max.  attempts  once  more  to  approach  Thekla. 
Wallenstein  prevents  him.  Max.  stands 
irresolute,  and  in  apparent  anguish.  In  the 
meantime  the  stage  fills  more  and  more  ;  and 
the  horns  sound  from  below  louder  and  loudxr, 
and  each  time  after  a  shorter  interval. 

MAX. 

Blow,  blow  !     Oh,  were  it  but  the  Swedish  trumpets, 
And  all  the  naked  swords,  which  I  see  here, 
Were  plunged  into  my  breast !     What  purpose  you  ? 
You  come  to  tear  me  from  this  place !     Beware, 
Ye  drive  me  not  to  desperation.     Do  it  not ! 
Ye  may  repent  it ! 

\Tlie  stage  is  entirely  filled  with  armed  men. 
Yet  more !  weight  upon  weight  to  drag  me  down. 
Think  what  ye're  doing.     It  is  not  well  done 
To  choose  a  man  despairing  for  your  leader ; 
You  tear  me  from  my  happiness.     Well,  then, 
I  dedicate  your  souls  to  vengeance.     Mark  ! 
For  your  own  ruin  you  have  chosen  me : 
Who  goes  with  me  must  be  prepared  to  perish. 

\He  turns  to  the  background;  there  ensues  a 
sudden  and  violent  movement  among  the 
Cuirassiers  ;  they  surround  him,  and  carry 
him  off  in  wild  tumult.  Wallenstein  re- 
mains immovable.  Thekla  sinks  into  her 
mother's  arms.  The  curtain  falls.  The  music 
becomes  loud  and  overpowering,  and  passes 
into  a  complete  war-march  —  the  orchestra 
joins  it  —  and  continues  during  the  interval 
between  the  third  and  fourth  acts. 


284  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ACT   IV. 

Scene  I. 
The  Burgomastek's  house  at  Egra. 

butler  (Just  arrived). 

Here  then  he  is  by  his  destiny  conducted. 
Here,  Friedland  !  and  no  further !     From  Bohemia 
Thy  meteor  rose,  traversed  the  sky  awhile, 
And  here  upon  the  borders  of  Bohemia 
Must  sink. 

Thou  hast  forsworn  the  ancient  colours, 
Blind  man  !  yet  trustest  to  thy  ancient  fortunes. 
Profaner  of  the  altar  and  the  hearth, 
Against  thy  emperor  and  fellow  citizens 
Thou  meanest  to  wage  the  war.     Friedland,  beware  — 
The  evil  spirit  of  revenge  impels  thee  — 
Beware  thou,  that  revenge  destroy  thee  not ! 

Scene  II. 
Butler  and  Gordon. 

GORDON. 

Is  it  you  ? 
How  my  heart  sinks  !     The  duke  a  fugitive  traitor ! 
His  princely  head  attainted  !     Oh,  my  God  ! 
Tell  me,  general,  I  implore  thee,  tell  me 
In  full,  of  all  these  sad  events  at  Pilsen. 

BUTLER. 

You  have  received  the  letter  which  I  sent  you 
By  a  post-courier  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  285 

GORDON. 

Yes:  and  in  obedience  to  it 
Opened  the  stronghold  to  him  without  scruple, 
For  an  imperial  letter  orders  me 
To  follow  your  commands  implicitly. 
But  yet  forgive  me !  when  even  now  I  saw 
The  duke  himself,  my  scruples  recommenced. 
For  truly,  not  like  an  attainted  man, 
Into  this  town  did  Friedland  make  his  entrance ; 
His  wonted  majesty  beamed  from  his  brow, 
And  calm,  as  in  the  days  when  all  was  right, 
Did  he  receive  from  me  the  accounts  of  office. 
'Tis  said,  that  fallen  pride  learns  condescension. 
But  sparing  and  with  dignity  the  duke 
Weighed  every  syllable  of  approbation, 
As  masters  praise  a  servant  who  has  done 
His  duty  and  no  more. 

BUTLER. 

'Tis  all  precisely 
As  I  related  in  my  letter.     Friedland 
Has  sold  the  army  to  the  enemy, 
And  pledged  himself  to  give  up  Prague  and  Egra. 
On  this  report  the  regiments  all  forsook  him, 
The  five  excepted  that  belong  to  Terzky, 
And  which  have  followed  him,  as  thou  hast  seen. 
The  sentence  of  attainder  is  passed  on  him, 
And  every  loyal  subject  is  required 
To  give  him  in  to  justice,  dead  or  living. 

GORDON. 

A  traitor  to  the  emperor.     Such  a  noble ! 

Of  such  high  talents  !     What  is  human  greatness  ? 

I  often  said,  this  can't  end  happily. 

His  might,  his  greatness,  and  this  obscure  power 

Are  but  a  covered  pitfall.     The  human  being 


286  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

May  not  be  trusted  to  self-government. 

The  clear  and  written  law,  the  deep-trod  footmarks 

Of  ancient  custom,  are  all  necessary 

To  keep  him  in  the  road  of  faith  and  duty. 

The  authority  intrusted  to  this  man 

Was  unexampled  and  unnatural, 

It  placed  him  on  a  level  with  his  emperor, 

Till  the  proud  soul  unlearned  submission.     Woe  is  me ! 

I  mourn  for  him !  for  where  he  fell,  I  deem 

Might  none  stand  firm.     Alas !  dear  general, 

We  iu  our  lucky  mediocrity 

Have  ne'er  experienced,  cannot  calculate, 

What  dangerous  wishes  such  a  height  may  breed 

In  the  heart  of  such  a  man. 

BUTLER. 

Spare  your  laments 
Till  he  need  sympathy ;  for  at  this  present 
He  is  still  mighty,  and  still  formidable. 
The  Swedes  advance  to  Egra  by  forced  marches, 
And  quickly  will  the  junction  be  accomplished. 
This  must  not  be  !     The  duke  must  never  leave 
This  stronghold  on  free  footing ;  for  I  have 
Pledged  life  and  honour  here  to  hold  him  prisoner, 
And  your  assistance  'tis  on  which  I  calculate. 

GORDON. 

O  that  I  had  not  lived  to  see  this  day ! 
From  his  hand  I  received  this  dignity, 
He  did  himself  intrust  this  stronghold  to  me, 
Which  I  am  now  required  to  make  his  dungeon. 
We  subalterns  have  no  will  of  our  own : 
The  free,  the  mighty  man  alone  may  listen 
To  the  fair  impulse  of  his  human  nature. 
Ah !  we  are  but  the  poor  tools  of  the  law, 
Obedience  the  sole  virtue  we  dare  aim  at ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  287 


BUTLER. 


Nay !  let  it  not  afflict  you,  that  your  power 
Is  circumscribed.     Much  liberty,  much  error ! 
The  narrow  path  of  duty  is  securest. 


GORDON. 

And  all  then  have  deserted  him,  you  say  ? 
He  has  built  up  the  luck  of  many  thousands, 
For  kingly  was  his  spirit :  his  full  hand 
Was  ever  open !     Many  a  one  from  dust 

[  With  a  sly  glance  on  Butler 
Hath  he  selected,  from  the  very  dust 
Hath  raised  him  into  dignity  and  honour. 
And  yet  no  friend,  not  one  friend  hath  he  purchased, 
Whose  heart  beats  true  to  him  in  the  evil  hour. 


BUTLER. 

Here's  one,  I  see. 

GORDON. 

I  have  enjoyed  from  him 
No  grace  or  favour.     I  could  almost  doubt, 
If  ever  in  his  greatness  he  once  thought  on 
An  old  friend  of  his  youth.     For  still  my  office 
Kept  me  at  distance  from  Mm ;  and  when  first 
He  to  this  citadel  appointed  me, 
He  was  sincere  and  serious  in  his  duty. 
I  do  not  then  abuse  his  confidence, 
If  I  preserve  my  fealty  in  that 
Which  to  my  fealty  was  first  delivered. 


BUTLER. 

Say,  then,  will  you  fulfil  the  attainder  on  him, 
And  lend  your  aid  to  take  him  in  arrest  ? 


288  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Gordon  (pauses,  reflecting  —  then  as  in  deep  dejection). 

If  it  be  so  —  if  all  be  as  you  say  — 
If  he've  betrayed  the  emperor,  his  master, 
Have  sold  the  troops,  have  purposed  to  deliver 
The  strongholds  of  the  country  to  the  enemy  — 
Yea,  truly  !  —  there  is  no  redemption  for  him  ! 
Yet  it  is  hard,  that  me  the  lot  should  destine 
To  be  the  instrument  of  his  perdition ; 
For  we  were  pages  at  the  court  of  Bergau 
At  the  same  period ;  but  I  was  the  senior. 


BUTLER. 

I  have  heard  so  — 

GORDON. 

'Tis  full  thirty  years  since  then. 
A  youth  who  scarce  had  seen  his  twentieth  year 
Was  Wallenstein,  when  he  and  I  were  friends : 
Yet  even  then  he  had  a  daring  soul : 
His  frame  of  mind  was  serious  and  severe 
Beyond  his  years :  his  dreams  were  of  great  objects ; 
He  walked  amidst  us  of  a  silent  spirit, 
Communing  with  himself ;  yet  I  have  known  him 
Transported  on  a  sudden  into  utterance 
Of  strange  conceptions  ;  kindling  into  splendour 
His  soul  revealed  itself,  and  he  spake  so 
That  we  looked  round  perplexed  upon  each  other, 
Not  knowing  whether  it  were  craziness, 
Or  whether  it  were  a  god  that  spoke  in  him. 

BUTLER. 

But  was  it  where  he  fell  two  story  high 

From  a  window-ledge,  on  which  he  had  fallen  asleep 

And  rose  up  free  from  injury  ?     From  this  day 

(It  is  reported)  he  betrayed  clear  marks 

Of  a  distempered  fancy. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  289 

GORDON. 

He  became 
Doubtless  more  self-enwrapped  and  melancholy ; 
He  made  himself  a  Catholic.1     Marvellously 
His  marvellous  preservation  had  transformed  him. 
Thenceforth  he  held  himself  for  an  exempted 
And  privileged  being,  and,  as  if  he  were 
Incapable  of  dizziness  or  fall, 
He  ran  along  the  unsteady  rope  of  life. 
But  now  our  destinies  drove  us  asunder ; 
He  paced  with  rapid  step  the  way  of  greatness, 
Was  count,  and  prince,  duke-regent,  and  dictator, 
And  now  is  all,  all  this  too  little  for  him ; 
He  stretches  forth  his  hands  for  a  king's  crown, 
And  plunges  in  unfathomable  ruin. 

BUTLER. 

No  more,  he  comes. 


Scene   III. 

To  these  enter  Wallenstein,  in  conversation  with  the 
Burgomaster  of  Egra. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You  were  at  one  time  a  free  town.     I  see 
Ye  bear  the  half-eagle  in  your  city  arms. 
Why  the  half-eagle  only  ? 

BURGOMASTER. 

We  were  free, 
But  for  the  last  two  hundred  years  has  Egra 

1  It  appears  that  the  account  of  his  conversion  being  caused  by 
suf-n  a  fall,  and  other  stories  of  his  juvenile  character,  are  not 
well  authenticated. 


290  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  . 

Remained  in  pledge  to  the  Bohemian  crown ; 
Therefore  we  bear  the  half-eagle,  the  other  half 
Being  cancelled  till  the  empire  ransom  us, 
If  ever  that  should  be. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Ye  merit  freedom. 
Only  be  firm  and  dauntless.     Lend  your  ears 
To  no  designing  whispering  court  minions. 
What  may  your  imposts  be  ? 

BURGOMASTER. 


So  heavy  that 
tern.     The 
Lives  at  our  costs. 


We  totter  under  them.     The  garrison 


WALLENSTEIN. 

I  will  relieve  you.     Tell  me, 
There  are  some  Protestants  among  you  still  ? 

[The  Burgomaster  hesitates. 
Yes,  yes ;  I  know  it.     Many  lie  concealed 
Within  these  walls.     Confess  now,  you  yourself  — 

[Fixes  his  eye  on  him.     The  Burgomaster  alarmed. 
Be  not  alarmed.     I  hate  the  Jesuits. 
Could  my  will  have  determined  it  they  had 
Been  long  ago  expelled  the  empire.     Trust  me  — 
Mass-book  or  Bible,  'tis  all  one  to  me. 
Of  that  the  world  has  had  sufficient  proof. 
I  built  a  church  for  the  Reformed  in  Glogau 
At  my  own  instance.     Hark  ye,  burgomaster ! 
What  is  your  name  ? 


BURGOMASTER. 

Pachhalbel,  may  it  please  you. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  291 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Hark  ye !     But  let  it  go  no  further,  what  I  now 
Disclose  to  you  in  confidence. 

[Laying  his  hand  on  the  Burgomaster's  shoulder 
with  a  certain  solemnity. 

The  times 
Draw  near  to  their  fulfilment,  burgomaster ! 
The  high  will  fall,  the  low  will  be  exalted. 
Hark  ye  !     But  keep  it  to  yourself !     The  end 
Approaches  of  the  Spanish  double  monarchy  — 
A  new  arrangement  is  at  hand.     You  saw 
The  three  moons  that  appeared  at  once  in  the  heaven  ? 

BURGOMASTER. 

With  wonder  and  affright ! 


WALLENSTEIN. 

Whereof  did  two 
Strangely  transform  themselves  to  bloody  daggers, 
And  only  one,  the  middle  moon,  remained 
Steady  and  clear. 

BURGOMASTER. 

We  applied  it  to  the  Turks. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  Turks !  That  all  ?  I  tell  you  that  two  empires 
Will  set  in  blood,  in  the  East  and  in  the  West, 
And  Lutherism  alone  remain. 

[Observing  Gordon  and  Butler. 
I'  faith, 
'Twas  a  smart  cannonading  that  we  heard 
This  evening,  as  we  journeyed  hitherward : 
'Twas  on  our  left  hand.     Did  ye  hear  it  here  ? 


292  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

GOKDON. 
Distinctly.     The  wind  brought  it  from  the  south. 

BUTLER. 

It  seemed  to  come  from  Weiden  or  from  Neustadt. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

"lis  likely.     That's  the  route  the  Swedes  are  taking. 
How  strong  is  the  garrison  ? 

GORDON. 

Not  quite  two  hundred 
Competent  men,  the  rest  are  invalids. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Good !     And  how  many  in  the  vale  of  Jochim  ? 

GORDON. 

Two  hundred  arquebusiers  have  I  sent  thither 
To  fortify  the  posts  against  the  Swedes. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Good !     I  commend  your  foresight.     At  the  works  too 
You  have  done  somewhat  ? 

GORDON. 

Two  additional  batteries 
I  caused  to  be  run  up.     They  were  needless ; 
The  Ehinegrave  presses  hard  upon  us,  general ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

You  have  been  watchful  in  your  emperor's  service. 
I  am  content  with  you,  lieutenant-colonel. 

[To  Butler. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  293 

Release  the  outposts  in  the  vale  of  Jochim, 
With  all  the  stations  in  the  enemy's  route. 

[To  Goedon. 
Governor,  in  your  faithful  hands  I  leave 
My  wife,  my  daughter,  and  my  sister.     I 
Shall  make  no  stay  here,  and  wait  but  the  arrival 
Of  letters  to  take  leave  of  you,  together 
With  all  the  regiments. 

Scene  IV. 
To  these  enter  Count  Terzky. 

TERZKY. 

Joy,  general,  joy !     I  bring  you  welcome  tidings. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

And  what  may  they  be  ? 

TERZKY. 

There  has  been  an  engagement 
At  Neustadt ;  the  Swedes  gained  the  victory. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

From  whence  did  you  receive  the  intelligence  ? 

TERZKY. 

A  countryman  from  Tirschenreut  conveyed  it. 
Soon  after  sunrise  did  the  fight  begin  ! 
A  troop  of  the  imperialists  from  Tachau 
Had  forced  their  way  into  the  Swedish  camp ; 
The  cannonade  continued  full  two  hours ; 
There  were  left  dead  upon  the  field  a  thousand 
Imperialists,  together  with  their  colonel ; 
Further  than  this  he  did  not  know. 


294  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

WALLENSTEIN. 

How  came 
Imperial  troops  at  Neustadt  ?     Altringer, 
But  yesterday,  stood  sixty  miles  from  there. 
Count  Gallas'  force  collects  at  Frauenburg, 
And  have  not  the  full  complement.     Is  it  possible 
That  Suys  perchance  had  ventured  so  far  onward  ? 
It  cannot  be. 

TERZKY. 

We  shall  soon  know  the  whole, 
For  here  comes  Illo,  full  of  haste,  and  joyous. 

Scene  V. 
To  these  enter  Illo. 

ILLO  (to  WALLENSTEIN). 

A  courier,  duke  !  he  wishes  to  speak  with  thee. 

terzky  (eagerly). 
Does  he  bring  confirmation  of  the  victory  ? 

wallenstein  (at  the  same  time). 
What  does  he  bring  ?     Whence  comes  he  ? 

ILLO. 

From  the  Ehinegrave, 
And  what  he  brings  I  can  announce  to  you 
Beforehand.     Seven  leagues  distant  are  the  Swedes ; 
At  Neustadt  did  Max.  Piccolomini 
Throw  himself  on  them  with  the  cavalry ; 
A  murderous  fight  took  place  !  o'erpowered  by  numbers, 
The  Pappenheimers  all,  with  Max.  their  leader, 

[Wallenstein  shudders  and  turns  pale. 
Were  left  dead  on  the  field. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  295 

wallenstein  {after  a  'pause,  in  a  low  voice). 

Where  is  the  messenger  ?     Conduct  me  to  him. 

[Wallenstein  is  going,  when  Lady  Neubrunn 
rushes  into  the  room.  Some  servants  follow 
her  and  run  across  the  stage. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Help!  Help! 

ILLO  and  terzky  (at  the  same  time). 
What  now  ? 

NEUBRUNN. 

The  princess ! 

WALLENSTEIN  and  TERZKY. 

Does  she  know  it  ? 

NEUBRUNN  (at  the  same  time  with  them). 

She  is  dying ! 

[Hurries  off  the  stage,  when  Wallenstein  and 
Terzky  follow  her. 


Scene  VI. 
Butler  and  Gordon. 

GORDON. 

What's  this  ? 

BUTLER. 

She  has  lost  the  man  she  loved 
Young  Piccolomini,  who  fell  in  the  battle. 


296  THE    DEATH    OF   WALLENSTEIN 

GORDON. 

Unfortunate  lady ! 

BUTLER. 

You  have  heard  what  Illo 
Keporteth,  that  the  Swedes  are  conquerors, 
And  marching  hitherward. 

GORDON. 

Too  well  I  heard  it. 

BUTLER. 

They  are  twelve  regiments  strong,  and  there  are  five 
Close  by  us  to  protect  the  duke.     We  have 
Only  my  single  regiment ;  and  the  garrison 
Is  not  two  hundred  strong. 

GORDON. 

'Tis  even  so. 

BUTLER. 

It  is  not  possible  with  such  small  force 
To  hold  in  custody  a  man  like  him. 

GORDON. 

I  grant  it. 

BUTLER. 

Soon  the  numbers  would  disarm  us, 
And  liberate  him. 

GORDON. 

It  were  to  be  feared. 

butler  (after  a  pause). 

Know,  I  am  warranty  for  the  event ; 

With  my  head  have  I  pledged  myself  for  his, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  297 

Must  make  my  word  good,  cost  it  what  it  will, 
And  if  alive  we  cannot  hold  him  prisoner, 
Why  —  death  makes  all  things  certain  ! 

GORDON. 

Butler !     What  ? 
Do  I  understand  you  ?     Gracious  God  !     You  could  — 

BUTLER. 

He  must  not  live. 

GORDON. 

And  you  can  do  the  deed  ? 

BUTLER. 

Either  you  or  I.     This  morning  was  his  last. 

GORDON. 

You  would  assassinate  him  ? 

BUTLER. 

Tis  my  purpose. 

GORDON. 

Who  leans  with  his  whole  confidence  upon  you ! 

BUTLER. 

Such  is  his  evil  destiny  ! 

GORDON. 

Your  general ! 
The  sacred  person  of  your  general ! 

BUTLER. 

My  general  he  has  been. 


298  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

GORDON. 

That  'tis  only 
An  "  has  been  "  washes  out  no  villainy, 
And  without  judgment  passed. 

BUTLER. 

The  execution 
Is  here  instead  of  judgment. 

GORDON. 

This  were  murder, 
Not  justice.     The  most  guilty  should  be  heard. 

BUTLER. 

His  guilt  is  clear,  the  emperor  has  passed  judgment, 
And  we  but  execute  his  will. 

GORDON. 

We  should  not 
Hurry  to  realise  a  bloody  sentence. 
A  word  may  be  recalled,  a  life  never  can  be. 

BUTLER. 

Despatch  in  service  pleases  sovereigns. 

GORDON. 

No  honest  man's  ambitious  to  press  forward 
To  the  hangman's  service. 

BUTLER. 

And  no  brave  man  loses 
His  colour  at  a  daring  enterprise. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  299 

GORDON. 

A  brave  man  hazards  life,  but  not  his  conscience. 

BUTLER. 

What  then  ?     Shall  he  go  forth  anew  to  kindle 
The  unextinguishable  flame  of  war  ? 

GORDON. 

Seize  him,  and  hold  him  prisoner  —  do  not  kill  him. 

BUTLER. 

Had  not  the  emperor's  army  been  defeated 

I  might  have  done  so.     But  'tis  now  passed  by. 

GORDON. 

Oh,  wherefore  opened  I  the  stronghold  to  him  ? 

BUTLER. 

His  destiny,  and  not  the  place  destroys  him. 

GORDON. 

Upon  these  ramparts,  as  beseemed  a  soldier, 
I  had  fallen,  defending  the  emperor's  citadel ! 

BUTLER. 

Yes  !  and  a  thousand  gallant  men  have  perished  ! 

GORDON. 

Doing  their  duty  —  that  adorns  the  man  ! 

But  murder's  a  black  deed,  and  nature  curses  it. 


300  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTE1N 

butler  (brings  out  a  paper). 

Here  is  the  manifesto  which  commands  us 
To  gain  possession  of  his  person.     See  — 
It  is  addressed  to  you  as  well  as  me. 
Are  you  content  to  take  the  consequences, 
If  through  our  fault  he  escape  to  the  enemy  ? 

GORDON. 

I  ?     Gracious  God ! 

BUTLER. 

Take  it  on  yourself. 
Come  of  it  what  may,  on  you  I  lay  it. 

GORDON. 

Oh,  God  in  heaven  ! 

BUTLER. 

Can  you  advise  aught  else 
Wherewith  to  execute  the  emperor's  purpose  ? 
Say  if  you  can.     For  I  desire  his  fall, 
Not  his  destruction. 

GORDON. 

Merciful  heaven  !  what  must  be 
I  see  as  clear  as  you.     Yet  still  the  heart 
Within  my  bosom  beats  with  other  feelings ! 

BUTLER. 

Mine  is  of  harder  stuff !     Necessity 

In  her  rough  school  hath  steeled  me.     And  this  Illo, 

And  Terzky  likewise,  they  must  not  survive  him. 

GORDON. 

I  feel  no  pang  for  these.     Their  own  bad  hearts 
Impelled  them,  not  the  influence  of  the  stars. 
'Twas  they  who  strewed  the  seeds  of  evil  passions 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  301 

In  his  calm  breast,  and  with  officious  villainy 
Watered  and  nursed  the  poisonous  plants.     May  they 
Eeceive  their  earnests  to  the  uttermost  mite ! 


BUTLER. 

And  their  death  shall  precede  his ! 

We  meant  to  have  taken  them  alive  this  evening 

Amid  the  merrymaking  of  a  feast, 

And  keep  them  prisoners  in  the  citadel, 

But  this  makes  shorter  work.     I  go  this  instant 

To  give  the  necessary  orders. 


Scene  VII. 

To  these  enter  Illo  and  Terzky. 

TERZKY. 

Our  luck  is  on  the  turn.     To-morrow  come 
The  Swedes  —  twelve  thousand  gallant  warriors,  Illo  ! 
Then  straightwise  for  Vienna.     Cheerily,  friend ! 
What !  meet  such  news  with  such  a  moody  face  ? 


ILLO. 

It  lies  with  us  at  present  to  prescribe 

Laws,  and  take  vengeance  on  those  worthless  traitors, 

Those  skulking  cowards  that  deserted  us ; 

One  has  already  done  his  bitter  penance, 

The  Piccolomini :  be  his  the  fate 

Of  all  who  wish  us  evil !     This  flies  sure 

To  the  old  man's  heart ;  he  has  his  whole  life  long 

Fretted  and  toiled  to  raise  his  ancient  house 

From  a  count's  title  to  the  name  of  prince ; 

And  now  must  seek  a  grave  for  his  only  son. 


302  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 


BULTER. 

'Twas  pity,  though  !    A  youth  of  such  heroic 
And  gentle  temperament !     The  duke  himself, 
'Twas  easily  seen,  how  near  it  went  to  his  heart. 

ILLO. 

Hark  ye,  old  friend !     That  is  the  very  point 
That  never  pleased  me  in  our  general  — 
He  ever  gave  the  preference  to  the  Italians. 
Yea,  at  this  very  moment,  by  my  soul ! 
He'd  gladly  see  us  all  dead  ten  times  over, 
Could  he  thereby  recall  his  friend  to  life. 

TERZKY. 

Hush,  hush  !  Let  the  dead  rest !  This  evening's  business 

Is,  who  can  fairly  drink  the  other  down  — 

Your  regiment,  Illo  !  gives  the  entertainment. 

Come !  we  will  keep  a  merry  carnival  — 

The  night  for  once  be  day,  and  'mid  full  glasses 

Will  we  expect  the  Swedish  avant-garde. 

ILLO. 

Yes,  let  us  be  of  good  cheer  for  to-day, 

For  there's  hot  work  before  us,  friends  !     This  sword 

Shall  have  no  rest  till  it  is  bathed  to  the  hilt 

In  Austrian  blood. 

GORDON. 

Shame,  shame  !  what  talk  is  this, 
My  lord  field-marshal  ?     Wherefore  foam  you  so 
Against  your  emperor  ? 

BUTLER. 

Hope  not  too  much 
From  this  first  victory.     Bethink  you,  sirs ! 
How  rapidly  the  wheel  of  fortune  turns ; 
The  emperor  still  is  formidably  strong. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  303 


ILLO. 

The  emperor  has  soldiers,  no  commander, 
For  this  King  Ferdinand  of  Hungary 
Is  but  a  tyro.     Gallas  ?     He's  no  luck, 
And  was  of  old  the  ruiner  of  armies. 
And  then  this  viper,  this  Octavio, 
Is  excellent  at  stabbing  in  the  back, 
But  ne'er  meets  Friedland  in  the  open  field. 

TERZKY. 

Trust  me,  my  friends,  it  cannot  but  succeed ; 
Fortune,  we  know,  can  ne'er  forsake  the  duke ! 
And  only  under  Wallenstein  can  Austria 
Be  conqueror. 

ILLO. 

The  duke  will  soon  assemble 
A  mighty  army :  all  come  crowding,  streaming 
To  banners,  dedicate  by  destiny 
To  fame,  and  prosperous  fortuue.     I  behold 
Old  times  come  back  again  !  he  will  become 
Once  more  the  mighty  lord  which  he  has  been. 
How  will  the  fools,  who've  now  deserted  him,    • 
Look  then  ?     I  can't  but  laugh  to  think  of  them, 
For  lands  will  he  present  to  all  his  friends, 
And  like  a  king  and  emperor  reward 
True  services ;  but  we've  the  nearest  claims. 

[To  Gordon. 
You  will  not  be  forgotten,  governor ! 
He'll  take  you  from  this  nest,  and  bid  you  shine 
In  higher  station  :  your  fidelity 
Well  merits  it. 

GORDON. 

I  am  content  already, 
And  wish  to  climb  no  higher ;  where  great  height  is, 
The  fall  must  needs  be  great.     "  Great  height,  great 
depth." 


304  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

ILLO. 

Here  you  have  no  more  business,  for  to-morrow 
The  Swedes  will  take  possession  of  the  citadel. 
Come,  Terzky,  it  is  supper-time.     What  think  you  ? 
Nay,  shall  we  have  the  town  illuminated 
In  honour  of  the  Swede  ?     And  who  refuses 
To  do  it  is  a  Spaniard  and  a  traitor. 

TERZKY. 

Nay  !  nay  !  not  that,  it  will  not  please  the  duke  — 

ILLO. 

What !  we  are  masters  here  ;  no  soul  shall  dare 
Avow  himself  imperial  where  we've  the  rule. 
Gordon !  good  night,  and  for  the  last  time  take 
A  fair  leave  of  the  place.     Send  out  patrols 
To  make  secure,  the  watchword  may  be  altered. 
At  the  stroke  of  ten  deliver  in  the  keys 
To  the  duke  himself,  and  then  you've  quit  for  ever 
Your  wardship  of  the  gates,  for  on  to-morrow 
The  Swedes  will  take  possession  of  the  citadel. 

terzky  (as  he  is  going,  to  butler). 
You  come,  though,  to  the  castle  ? 

BUTLER. 

At  the  right  time. 
[Exeunt  Terzky  and  Illo. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  305 

Scene   VIII. 
Gokdon  and  Butler. 

GORDON   (looking  after  them). 

Unhappy  men  !     How  free  from  all  foreboding ! 

They  rush  into  the  outspread  net  of  murder 

In  the  blind  drunkenness  of  victory ; 

I  have  no  pity  for  their  fate.     This  Illo, 

This  overflowing  and  foolhardy  villain, 

That  would  fain  bathe  himself  in  his  emperor's  blood. 

BUTLER. 

Do  as  he  ordered  you.     Send  round  patrols, 
Take  measures  for  the  citadel's  security ; 
When  they  are  within  I  close  the  castle  gate 
That  nothing  may  transpire. 

GORDON  (with  earnest  anxiety). 

Oh !  haste  not  so ! 
Nay,  stop ;  first  tell  me  — 

BUTLER. 

You  have  heard  already, 
To-morrow  to  the  Swedes  belongs.     This  night 
Alone  is  ours.     They  make  good  expedition. 
But  we  will  make  still  greater.     Fare  you  welL 

GORDON. 

Ah  !  your  looks  tell  me  nothing  good.     Nay,  Butler, 
I  pray  you  promise  me ! 


306  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

BUTLER. 

The  sun  has  set ; 
A  fateful  evening  doth  descend  upon  us, 
And  brings  on  their  long  night !     Their  evil  stars 
Deliver  them  unarmed  into  our  hands, 
And  from  their  drunken  dream  of  golden  fortunes 
The  dagger  at  their  hearts  shall  rouse  them.     Well, 
The  duke  was  ever  a  great  calculator ; 
His  fellow  men  were  figures  on  his  chess-board 
To  move  and  station,  as  his  game  required. 
Other  men's  honour,  dignity,  good  name, 
Did  he  shift  like  pawns,  and  made  no  conscience  of, 
Still  calculating,  calculating  still ; 
And  yet  at  last  his  calculation  proves 
Erroneous ;  the  whole  game  is  lost ;  and  lo  ! 
His  own  life  will  be  found  among  the  forfeits. 

GORDON. 

Oh,  think  not  of  his  errors  now !  remember 
His  greatness,  his  munificence ;  think  on  all 
The  lovely  features  of  his  character, 
On  all  the  noble  exploits  of  his  life, 
And  let  them,  like  an  angel's  arm,  unseen, 
Arrest  the  lifted  sword. 

BUTLER. 

It  is  too  late. 
I  suffer  not  myself  to  feel  compassion, 
Dark  thoughts  and  bloody  are  my  duty  now. 

[Grasping  Gordon's  hand. 
Gordon  !  'tis  not  my  hatred  (I  pretend  not 
To  love  the  duke,  and  have  no  cause  to  love  him). 
Yet  'tis  not  now  my  hatred  that  impels  me 
To  be  his  murderer.     'Tis  his  evil  fate. 
Hostile  occurrences  of  many  events 
Control  and  subjugate  me  to  the  office. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  307 

In  vain  the  human  being  meditates 

Free  action.     He  is  but  the  wire-worked 1  puppet 

Of  the  blind  Power,  which  out  of  its  own  choice, 

Creates  for  him  a  dread  necessity. 

What  too  would  it  avail  him  if  there  were 

A  something  pleading  for  him  in  my  heart  — 

Still  I  must  kill  him. 

GOKDON. 

If  your  heart  speak  to  you, 
Follow  its  impulse.     'Tis  the  voice  of  God. 
Think  you  your  fortunes  will  grow  prosperous 
Bedewed  with  blood  —  his  blood  ?     Believe  it  not ! 

BUTLER. 

You  know  not.    Ask  not !    Wherefore  should  it  happen 
That  the  Swedes  gained  the  victory,  and  hasten 
With  such  forced  marches  hitherwards  ?     Fain  would  I 
Have  given  him  to  the  emperor's  mercy.     Gordon ! 
I  do  not  wish  his  blood,  —  but  I  must  ransom 
The  honour  of  my  word,  —  it  lies  in  pledge  — 
And  he  must  die,  or  — 

[Passionately  grasping  Gordon's  hand. 
Listen,  then,  and  know 
I  am  dishonoured  if  the  duke  escape  us. 

GORDON. 

Oh !  to  save  such  a  man  — 

BUTLER. 

What! 

GORDON. 

It  is  worth 
A  sacrifice.     Come,  friend  !     Be  noble-minded  ! 

1  We  doubt  the  propriety  of  putting  so  bias  jhemous  a  statement 
in  the  mouth  of  any  character.  —  T. 


308  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Our  own  heart,  and  not  other  men's  opinions, 
Forms  our  true  honour. 

BUTLER  {with  a  cold  and  haughty  air). 

He  is  a  great  lord, 
This  duke,  and  I  am  of  but  mean  importance. 
This  is  what  you  would  say  !     Wherein  concerns  it 
The  world  at  large,  you  mean  to  hint  to  me, 
Whether  the  man  of  low  extraction  keeps 
Or  blemishes  his  honour  — 
So  that  the  man  of  princely  rank  be  saved  ? 
We  all  do  stamp  our  value  on  ourselves : 
The  price  we  challenge  for  ourselves  is  given  us. 
There  does  not  live  on  earth  the  man  so  stationed 
That  I  despise  myself  compared  with  him. 
Man  is  made  great  or  little  by  his  own  will ; 
Because  I  am  true  to  mine  therefore  he  dies ! 

GORDON. 

I  am  endeavouring  to  move  a  rock. 

Thou  hadst  a  mother,  yet  no  human  feelings. 

I  cannot  hinder  you,  but  may  some  God 

Rescue  him  from  you  !  [Exit  Gordon. 

butler  1  (alone). 

I  treasured  my  good  name  all  my  life  long ; 

The  duke  has  cheated  me  of  life's  best  jewel, 

So  that  I  blush  before  this  poor  weak  Gordon ! 

He  prizes  above  all  his  fealty  ; 

His  conscious  soul  accuses  him  of  nothing ; 

In  opposition  to  his  own  soft  heart 

He  subjugates  himself  to  an  iron  duty. 

1  This  soliloquy,  which,  according  to  the  former  arrangement, 
constituted  the  whole  of  scene  ix.,  and  concluded  the  fourth  act, 
is  omitted  in  all  the  printed  German  editions.  It  seems  probable 
that  it  existed  in  the  original  manuscript  from  which  Mr.  Cole- 
ridge translated.  —  Ed. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  309 

Me  in  a  weaker  moment  passion  warped ; 
I  stand  beside  him,  and  must  feel  myself 
The  worst  man  of  the  two.     What  though  the  world 
Is  ignorant  of  my  purposed  treason,  yet 
One  man  does  know  it,  and  can  prove  it,  too  — 
High-minded  Piccolo  mini ! 
There  lives  the  man  who  can  dishonour  me ! 
This  ignominy  blood  alone  can  cleanse ! 
Duke  Friedland,  thou  or  I.     Into  my  own  hands 
Fortune  delivers  me.     The  dearest  thing  a  man  has  is 
himself. 


Scene    IX. 

[A  Gothic  and  gloomy  apartment  at  the  Duchess 
Fkiedland's.  Thekla  on  a  seat,  pale,  her 
eyes  closed.  The  Duchess  and  Lady  Neu- 
bkunn  busied  about  her.  Wallenstein  and 
the  Countess  in  conversation. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

How  knew  she  it  so  soon  ? 


COUNTESS. 

She  seems  to  have 
Foreboded  some  misfortune.     The  report 
Of  an  engagement,  in  which  had  fallen 
A  colonel  of  the  imperial  army,  frightened  her. 
I  saw  it  instantly.     She  flew  to  meet 
The  Swedish  courier,  and  with  sudden  questioning 
Soon  wrested  from  him  the  disastrous  secret. 
Too  late  we  missed  her,  hastened  after  her ; 
We  found  her  lying  in  his  arms,  all  pale, 
And  in  a  swoon. 


310  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

WALLENSTEIN. 

A  heavy,  heavy  blow  ! 
And  she  so  unprepared  !     Poor  child  !  how  is  it  ? 

[Turning  to  the  Duchess. 
Is  she  coming  to  herself  ? 

DUCHESS. 

Her  eyes  are  opening. 

COUNTESS. 

She  lives  ! 

thekla  (looking  around  her). 

Where  am  I  ? 

wallenstein  (steps  to  her,  raising  her  up  in  his  arms). 

Come,  cheerly,  Thekla !  be  my  own  brave  girl ! 
See,  there's  thy  loving  mother.     Thou  art  in 
Thy  father's  arms. 

thekla  {standing  up). 
Where  is  he  ?     Is  he  gone  ? 

DUCHESS. 

Who  gone,  my  daughter  ? 

THEKLA. 

He  —  the  man  who  uttered 
That  word  of  misery. 


My  Thekla 


DUCHESS. 

Oh,  think  not  of  it ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  311 

WAXLENSTEIN. 

Give  her  sorrow  leave  to  talk ! 
Let  her  complain  —  mingle  your  tears  with  hers, 
For  she  hath  suffered  a  deep  anguish ;  hut 
She'll  rise  superior  to  it,  for  my  Thekla 
Hath  all  her  father's  unsubdued  heart. 


THEKLA. 

I  am  not  ill.     See,  I  have  power  to  stand. 

Why  does  my  mother  weep  ?     Have  I  alarmed  her  ? 

It  is  gone  by  —  I  recollect  myself. 

[She  casts  her  eyes  round  the  room,  as  seeking  some  one. 

Where  is  he  ?     Please  you,  do  not  hide  him  from  me. 

You  see  I  have  strength  enough :  now  I  will  hear  him. 


DUCHESS. 

No ;  never  shall  this  messenger  of  evil 
Enter  again  into  thy  presence,  Thekla ! 


THEKLA. 

My  father  — 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Dearest  daughter ! 

THEKLA. 

I'm  not  weak. 
Shortly  I  shall  be  quite  myself  again. 
You'll  grant  me  one  request  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Name  it,  my  daughter. 


312  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

THEKLA. 

Permit  the  stranger  to  be  called  to  me, 
And  grant  me  leave,  that  by  myself  I  may 
Hear  bis  report  and  question  him. 


DUCHESS. 

No,  never ! 

COUNTESS. 

'Tis  not  advisable  —  assent  not  to  it. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Hush !     Wherefore  wouldst  thou  speak  with  him,  my 
daughter  ? 

THEKLA. 

Knowing  the  whole,  I  shall  be  more  collected ; 
I  will  not  be  deceived.     My  mother  wishes 
Only  to  spare  me.     I  will  not  be  spared  — 
The  worst  is  said  already :  I  can  hear 
Nothing  of  deeper  anguish  ! 

COUNTESS    and   DUCHESS. 

Do  it  not. 

THEKLA. 

The  horror  overpowered  me  by  surprise, 

My  heart  betrayed  me  in  the  stranger's  presence : 

He  was  a  witness  of  my  weakness,  yea, 

I  sank  into  his  arms ;  and  that  has  shamed  me. 

I  must  replace  myself  in  his  esteem, 

And  I  must  speak  with  him,  perforce,  that  he, 

The  stranger,  may  not  think  ungently  of  me. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  313 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  see  she  is  in  the  right,  and  am  inclined 

To  grant  her  this  request  of  hers.     Go,  call  him. 

[Lady  Neubkunn  goes  to  call  him. 

DUCHESS. 

But  I,  thy  mother,  will  be  present  — 

THEKLA. 

'Twere 
More  pleasing  to  me  if  alone  I  saw  him ; 
Trust  me,  I  shall  behave  myself  the  more 
Collectedly. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Permit  her  her  own  will. 
Leave  her  alone  with  him :  for  there  are  sorrows, 
Where  of  necessity  the  soul  must  be 
Its  own  support.     A  strong  heart  will  rely 
On  its  own  strength  alone.     In  her  own  bosom, 
Not  in  her  mother's  arms,  must  she  collect 
The  strength  to  rise  superior  to  this  blow. 
It  is  mine  own  brave  girl.     I'll  have  her  treated 
Not  as  the  woman,  but  the  heroine.  [Going. 

COUNTESS  {detaining  him). 

Where  art  thou  going  ?     I  heard  Terzky  say 
That  'tis  thy  purpose  to  depart  from  hence 
To-morrow  early,  but  to  leave  us  here. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Yes,  ye  stay  here,  placed  under  the  protection 
Of  gallant  men. 

COUNTESS. 

Oh,  take  us  with  you,  brother. 
Leave  us  not  in  this  gloomy  solitude. 


314  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

To  brood  o'er  anxious  thoughts.     The  mists  of  doubt 
Magnify  evils  to  a  shape  of  horror. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Who  speaks  of  evil  ?     I  entreat  you,  sister, 
Use  words  of  better  omen. 

COUNTESS. 

Then  take  us  with  you. 
Oh,  leave  us  not  behind  you  in  a  place 
That  forces  us  to  such  sad  omens.     Heavy 
And  sick  within  me  is  my  heart  — 
These  walls  breath  on  me  like  a  churchyard  vault. 
I  cannot  tell  you,  brother,  how  this  place 
Doth  go  against  my  nature.     Take  us  with  you. 
Come,  sister,  join  you  your  entreaty  !     Niece, 
Yours  too.     We  all  entreat  you,  take  us  with  you  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  place's  evil  omens  will  I  change, 

Making  it  that  which  shields  and  shelters  for  me 

My  best  beloved. 

lady  neubrunn  {returning). 
The  Swedish  officer. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Leave  her  alone  with  me. 

duchess  (to  thekla,  who  starts  and  shivers). 

There  —  pale  as  death  !     Child,  'tis  impossible 
That   thou    shouldst    speak    with  him.      Follow   thy 
mother. 


THE  DEATH  OF  WALLENSTEIN       315 

THEKLA. 

The  Lady  Neubrunn  then  may  stay  with  me. 

[Exeunt  Duchess  and  Countess. 


Scene  X. 
Thekla,  the  Swedish  Captain,  Lady  Neubkunn. 

captain  {respectfully  approaching  her). 

Princess  —  I  must  entreat  your  gentle  pardon  — 
My  inconsiderate  rash  speech.     How  could  I  — 

Thekla  (with  dignity). 

You  have  beheld  me  in  my  agony. 
A  most  distressful  accident  occasioned 
You  from  a  stranger  to  become  at  once 
My  confidant. 

CAPTAIN. 

I  fear  you  hate  my  presence, 
For  my  tongue  spake  a  melancholy  word. 

THEKLA. 

The  fault  is  mine.     Myself  did  wrest  it  from  you. 
The  horror  which  came  o'er  me  interrupted 
Your  tale  at  its  commencement.     May  it  please  you, 
Continue  it  to  the  end. 

CAPTAIN. 

Princess,  'twill 
Eenew  your  anguish. 

THEKLA. 

I  am  firm, — 
I  will  be  firm.     Well  —  how  began  the  engagement  ? 


316  THE    DEATH    OF   WALLENSTEIN 

CAPTAIN. 
We  lay,  expecting  no  attack,  at  Neustadt, 
Intrenched  but  insecurely  in  our  camp, 
When  toward  evening  rose  a  cloud  of  dust 
From  the  wood  thitherward ;  our  vanguard  fled 
Into  the  camp,  and  sounded  the  alarm. 
Scarce  had  we  mounted  ere  the  Pappenheimers, 
Their  horses  at  full  speed,  broke  through  the  lines, 
And  leaped  the  trenches ;  but  their  heedless  courage 
Had  borne  them  onward  far  before  the  others  — 
The  infantry  were  still  at  distance,  only 
The  Pappenheimers  followed  daringly 
Their  daring  leader  — 

[Thekla  betrays  agitation  in  her  gestures.  Tlie 
officer  pauses  till  she  makes  a  sign  to  him  to 
proceed. 

Both  in  van  and  flanks 
With  our  whole  cavalry  we  now  received  them ; 
Back  to  the  trenches  drove  them,  where  the  foot 
Stretched  out  a  solid  ridge  of  pikes  to  meet  them. 
They  neither  could  advance,  nor  yet  retreat ; 
And  as  they  stood  on  every  side  wedged  in, 
The  Pthinegrave  to  their  leader  called  aloud, 
Inviting  a  surrender ;  but  their  leader, 
Young  Piccolomini  — 

[Thekla,  as  giddy,  grasps  a  chair. 
Known  by  his  plume, 
And  his  long  hair,  gave  signal  for  the  trenches ; 
Himself  leaped  first :  the  regiment  all  plunged  after. 
His  charger,  by  a  halbert  gored,  reared  up, 
Flung  him  with  violence  off,  and  over  him 
The  horses,  now  no  longer  to  be  curbed,  — 

[Thekla,  who  has  accompanied  the  last  speech 
with  all  the  marks  of  increasing  agony,  trem- 
bles through  her  whole  frame  and  is  falling. 
The  Lady  Neubkunn  runs  to  her,  and  receives 
her  in  her  arms. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  317 

NEUBRUNN. 


My  dearest  lady  — 


CAPTAIN. 

I  retire. 

THEKLA. 

Tis  over, 
Proceed  to  the  conclusion. 

CAPTAIN. 

Wild  despair 
Inspired  the  troops  with  frenzy  when  they  saw 
Their  leader  perish ;  every  thought  of  rescue 
Was  spurned ;  they  fought  like  wounded  tigers ;  their 
Frantic  resistance  roused  our  soldiery  ; 
A  murderous  fight  took  place,  nor  was  the  contest 
Finished  before  their  last  man  fell. 

THEKLA  (faltering). 

And  where  — 
Where  is  —  you  have  not  told  me  all. 

captain  {after  a  pause). 

This  morning 
We  buried  him.     Twelve  youths  of  noblest  birth 
Did  bear  him  to  interment ;  the  whole  army 
Followed  the  bier.     A  laurel  decked  his  coffin ; 
The  sword  of  the  deceased  was  placed  upon  it, 
In  mark  of  honour  by  the  Ehinegrave's  self ; 
Nor  tears  were  wanting,  for  there  are  among  us 
Many,  who  had  themselves  experienced 
The  greatness  of  his  mind  and  gentle  manners ; 
All  were  affected  at  his  fate.     The  Rhinegrave 
Would  willingly  have  saved  him ;  but  himself 
Made  vain  the  attempt  —  'tis  said  he  wished  to  die. 


318  THE    DEATH   OF    WALLENSTEIN 

neubrunn  (to  thekla,  who  has  hidden  her  countenanec). 
Look  up,  my  dearest  lady  — 

THEKLA. 

Where  is  his  grave  ? 

CAPTAIN. 

At  Neustadt,  lady ;  in  a  cloister  church 

Are  his  remains  deposited,  until 

We  can  receive  directions  from  his  father. 

THEKLA. 

What  is  the  cloister's  name  ? 

CAPTAIN. 

St.  Catherine's. 

THEKLA. 

And  how  far  is  it  thither  ? 

CAPTAIN. 

Near  twelve  leagues. 

THEKLA. 

And  which  the  way  ? 

CAPTAIN. 

You  go  by  Tirschenreut 
And  Falkenburg,  through  our  advanced  posts. 

THEKLA. 

Who 

Is  their  commander  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  319 

CAPTAIN. 

Colonel  Seckendorf. 
[Thekla  steps  to  the  table,  and  takes  a  ring  from 
a  casket. 

thekla. 

You  have  beheld  me  in  my  agony, 

And  shown  a  feeling  heart.     Please  you,  accept 

[Giving  him  the  ring. 
A  small  memorial  of  this  hour.     Now  go ! 

captain  (confusedly). 
Princess  — 

[Thekla  silently  makes  signs  to  him  to  go,  and 
turns  from  him.  TJie  captain  lingers,  and  is 
about  to  speak.  Lady  Neubrunn  repeats  the 
signal,  and  he  retires. 


Scene  XL 
Thekla,  Lady  Neubrunn. 

thekla  (falls  on  lady  neubrunn's  neck). 

Now  gentle  Neubrunn,  show  me  the  affection 
Which  thou  hast  ever  promised  —  prove  thyself 
My  own  true  friend  and  faithful  fellow  pilgrim. 
This  night  we  must  away  ! 

neubrunn. 

Away  !  and  whither  ? 

THEKLA. 

Whither  !     There  is  but  one  place  in  the  world. 
Thither,  where  he  lies  buried  !     To  his  coffin  ! 


320       THE  DEATH  OF  WALLENSTEIN 

NEUBKUNN. 

What  would  you  do  there  ? 

THEKLA. 

What  do  there  ? 
That  wouldst  thou  not  have  asked,  hadst  thou  e'er  loved. 
There,  that  is  all  that  still  remains  of  him  ! 
That  single  spot  is  the  whole  earth  to  me. 

NEUBRUNN. 

That  place  of  death  — 

THEKLA. 

Is  now  the  only  place 
Where  life  yet  dwells  for  me :  detain  me  not ! 
Come  and  make  preparations  ;  let  us  think 
Of  means  to  fly  from  hence. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Your  father's  rage  — 

THEKLA. 

That  time  is  past  — 

And  now  I  fear  no  human  being's  rage. 

NEUBRUNN. 

The  sentence  of  the  world  !     The  tongue  of  calumny 

THEKLA. 

Whom  am  I  seeking  ?     Him  who  is  no  more. 
Am  I  then  hastening  to  the  arms  —     O  God  ! 
I  haste  but  to  the  grave  of  the  beloved. 


THE  DEATH  OF  WALLENSTEIN        321 

NEUBRUNN. 

And  we  alone,  two  helpless,  feeble  women  ? 

THEKLA. 

We  will  take  weapons :  my  arm  shall  protect  thee. 

NEUBRUNN. 

In  the  dark  night-time  ? 

THEKLA. 

Darkness  will  conceal  us. 

NEUBRUNN. 

This  rough  tempestuous  night  — 

THEKLA. 

Had  he  a  soft  bed 
Under  the  hoofs  of  his  war-horses  ? 

NEUBRUNN. 

Heaven ! 
And  then  the  many  posts  of  the  enemy ! 

THEKLA. 

They  are  human  beings.     Misery  travels  free 
Through  the  whole  earth. 

NEUBRUNN. 

The  journey's  weary  length  — 

THEKLA. 

The  pilgrim,  travelling  to  a  distant  shrine 

Of  hope  and  healing,  doth  not  count  the  leagues. 


322  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

NEUBRUNN. 

How  can  we  pass  the  gates  ? 

THEKLA. 

Gold  opens  them. 
Go,  do  but  go. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Should  we  be  recognised  — 

THEKLA. 

In  a  despairing  woman,  a  poor  fugitive, 

Will  no  one  seek  the  daughter  of  Duke  Friedland. 

NEUBRUNN. 

And  where  procure  we  horses  for  our  flight  ? 

THEKLA. 

My  equerry  procures  them.     Go  and  fetch  him. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Dares  he,  without  the  knowledge  of  his  lord  ? 

THEKLA. 

He  will.     Go,  only  go.     Delay  no  longer. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Dear  lady  !  and  your  mother  ? 

THEKLA. 

Oh  !  my  mother  ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  323 


NEUBKUNN. 


So  much  as  she  has  suffered  too  already ; 
Your  teuder  mother.     Ah  !  how  ill  prepared 


For  this  last  anguish  ! 


Go  instantly. 

NEUBRUNN. 


THEKLA. 

Woe  is  me !  my  mother !  [Pauses. 


But  think !  what  you  are  doing 


THEKLA. 

What  can  be  thought,  already  has  been  thought. 

NEUBRUNN. 

And  being  there,  what  purpose  you  to  do  ? 

THEKLA. 

There  a  divinity  will  prompt  my  soul. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Your  heart,  dear  lady,  is  disquieted  ! 

And  this  is  not  the  way  that  leads  to  quiet. 

THEKLA. 

To  a  deep  quiet,  such  as  he  has  found, 

It  draws  me  on,  I  know  not  what  to  name  it, 

Resistless  does  it  draw  me  to  his  grave. 

There  will  my  heart  be  eased,  my  tears  will  flow. 

Oh,  hasten,  make  no  further  questioning ! 

There  is  no  rest  for  me  till  I  have  left 

These  walls  —  they  fall  in  on  me  —  a  dim  power 

Drives  me  from  hence  —  oh,  mercy  !     What  a  feeling ! 

What  pale  and  hollow  forms  are  those !     They  fill, 


324  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

They  crowd  the  place  !     I  have  no  longer  room  here ! 
Mercy !     Still  more !     More  still !    The  hideous  swarm, 
They  press  on  me ;  they  chase  me  from  these  walls  — 
Those  hollow,  bodiless  forms  of  living  men ! 


NEUBRUNN. 

You  frighten  me  so,  lady,  that  no  longer 

I  dare  stay  here  myself.     I  go  and  call 

Eosenberg  instantly.  [Exit  Lady  Neubrunn. 


Scene  XII. 

THEKLA. 

His  spirit  'tis  that  calls  me :  'tis  the  troop 

Of  his  true  followers,  who  offered  up 

Themselves  to  avenge  his  death :  and  they  accuse  me 

Of  an  ignoble  loitering  —  they  would  not 

Forsake  their  leader  even  in  his  death ;  they  died  for 

him, 
And  shall  I  live  ? 

For  me  too  was  that  laurel  garland  twined 
That  decks  his  bier.     Life  is  an  empty  casket : 
I  throw  it  from  me.     Oh,  my  only  hope ! 
To  die  beneath  the  hoofs  of  trampling  steeds  — 
That  is  a  lot  of  heroes  upon  earth !         [Exit  Thekla.1 
(The  curtain  drops.) 

1The  soliloquy  of  Thekla  consists  in  the  original  of  six  and 
twenty  lines,  twenty  of  which  are  in  rhymes  of  irregular  recur- 
rence. I  thought  it  prudent  to  abridge  it.  Indeed  the  whole 
scene  between  Thekla  and  Lady  Neubrunn  might,  perhaps,  have 
been  omitted  without  injury  to  the  play.  —  C. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  325 

Scene  XIII. 
Thekla,  Lady  Neubrunn,  and  Rosenberg. 

NEUBRUNN. 

He  is  here,  lady,  and  he  will  procure  them. 

thekla. 
Wilt  thou  provide  us  horses,  Rosenberg  ? 

ROSENBERG. 

I  will,  my  lady. 

THEKLA. 

And  go  with  us  as  well  ? 

ROSENBERG. 

To  the  world's  end,  my  lady. 

THEKLA. 

But  consider, 
Thou  never  canst  return  unto  the  duke. 

ROSENBERG. 

I  will  remain  with  thee. 

THEKLA. 

I  will  reward  thee, 
And  will  commend  thee  to  another  master. 
Canst  thou  unseen  conduct  us  from  the  castle  ? 

ROSENBERG. 

I  can. 


326  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

THEKLA. 

When  can  I  go  ? 

ROSENBERG. 

This  very  hour. 
But  whither  would  you,  lady  ? 


THEKLA. 

To  —     Tell  him,  Neubrunn. 


NEUBRUNN. 

To  Neustadt. 


ROSENBERG. 

So  ;  I  leave  you  to  get  ready.  [Exit. 

NEUBRUNN. 

Oh,  see,  your  mother  comes. 

THEKLA. 

Indeed  !     0  Heaven ! 

Scene   XIV. 

Thekla,  Lady  Neubrunn,  the  Duchess. 

duchess. 
He's  gone !     I  find  thee  more  composed,  my  child. 

THEKLA. 

I  am  so,  mother ;  let  me  only  now 

Eetire  to  rest,  and  Neubrunn  here  be  with  me. 

I  want  repose. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  327 

DUCHESS. 

My  Thekla,  thou  shalt  have  it. 
I  leave  thee  now  consoled,  since  I  can  calm 
Thy  father's  heart. 

THEKLA. 

Good  night,  beloved  mother ! 
[Falling  on  her  neck  and  embracing  her  with  deep 
emotion. 

DUCHESS. 

Thou  scarcely  art  composed  e'en  now,  my  daughter. 
Thou  tremblest  strongly,  and  I  feel  thy  heart 
Beat  audibly  on  mine. 

THEKLA. 

Sleep  will  appease 
Its  beating :  now  good  night,  good  night,  dear  mother. 
(As  she  withdraws  from  her  mother's  arms  the  curtain 

falls.) 


ACT   V. 

Scene   I. 

Butler's  Chamber 

Butler,  and  Major  Geraldin. 

butler. 

Find  me  twelve  strong  dragoons,  arm  them  with  pikes. 

For  there  must  be  no  firing  — 

Conceal  them  somewhere  near  the  banquet-room, 

And  soon  as  the  dessert  is  served  up,  rush  all  in 

And  cry  —  "  Who  is  loyal  to  the  emperor  ? " 

I  will  overturn  the  table  —  while  you  attack 


328  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Illo  and  Terzky,  and  despatch  them  both. 
The  castle-palace  is  well  barred  and  guarded, 
That  no  intelligence  of  this  proceeding 
May  make  its  way  to  the  duke.     Go  instantly ; 
Have  you  yet  sent  for  Captain  Devereux 
And  the  Macdonald  ? 


GERALDIN. 

They'll  be  here  anon. 

[Exit  Geraldin. 

BUTLER. 

Here's  no  room  for  delay.     The  citizens 
Declare  for  him  —  a  dizzy  drunken  spirit 
Possesses  the  whole  town.     They  see  in  the  duke 
A  prince  of  peace,  a  founder  of  new  ages 
And  golden  times.     Arms,  too,  have  been  given  out 
By  the  town-council,  and  a  hundred  citizens 
Have  volunteered  themselves  to  stand  on  guard. 
Despatch  !  then,  be  the  word ;  for  enemies 
Threaten  us  from  without  and  from  within. 


Scene   II. 
Butler,  Captain  Devereux,  and  Macdonald. 

MACDONALD. 

Here  we  are,  general. 

devereux. 
What's  to  be  the  watchword  ? 

BUTLER. 

Long  live  the  emperor  ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  329 

both  {recoiling). 
How? 

BUTLER. 

Live  the  house  of  Austria. 

DEVEREUX. 

Have  we  not  sworn  fidelity  to  Friedland  ? 

MACDONALD. 

Have  we  not  marched  to  this  place  to  protect  him  ? 

BUTLER. 

Protect  a  traitor  and  his  country's  enemy  ? 

DEVEREUX. 

Why,  yes  !  in  his  name  you  administered 
Our  oath. 

MACDONALD. 

And  followed  him  yourself  to  Egra. 

BUTLER. 

I  did  it  the  more  surely  to  destroy  him. 

DEVEREUX. 

So,  then ! 

MACDONALD. 

An  altered  case ! 

BUTLER  (to  DEVEREUX). 

Thou  wretched  man, 
So  easily  leavest  thou  thy  oath  and  colours  ? 


33°  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

DEVEREUX. 

The  devil !     I  but  followed  your  example ; 
If  you  could  prove  a  villain,  why  not  we  ? 

MACDONALD. 

We've  naught  to  do  with  thinking  —  that's  your  busi- 
ness. 
You  are  our  general,  and  give  out  the  orders ; 
We  follow  you,  though  the  track  lead  to  hell. 

butler  (appeased). 
Good,  then  !  we  know  each  other. 

MACDONALD. 

I  should  hope  so. 

DEVEREUX. 

Soldiers  of  fortune  are  we  —  who  bids  most 
He  has  us. 

MACDONALD. 

Tis  e'en  so ! 

BUTLER. 

Well,  for  the  present 
You  must  remain  honest  and  faithful  soldiers. 

DEVEREUX. 

We  wish  no  other. 

BUTLER. 

Ay,  and  make  your  fortunes. 

MACDONALD. 

That  is  still  better. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  331 

BUTLEK. 

Listen ! 


BOTH. 

We  attend. 

BUTLEK. 

It  is  the  emperor's  will  and  ordinance 

To  seize  the  person  of  the  Prince-Duke  Friedland 

Alive  or  dead. 

DEVEREUX. 

It  runs  so  in  the  letter. 

MACDONALD. 

Alive  or  dead  —  these  were  the  very  words. 

BUTLER. 

And  he  shall  be  rewarded  from  the  state 
In  land  and  gold  who  proffers  aid  thereto. 

DEVEREUX. 

Ay !  that  sounds  well.     The  words  sound  always  well 

That  travel  hither  from  the  court.     Yes  !  yes  ! 

We  know  already  what  court-words  import. 

A  golden  chain  perhaps  in  sign  of  favour, 

Or  an  old  charger,  or  a  parchment-patent, 

And  such  like.     The  prince-duke  pays  better. 

MACDONALD. 

Yes, 
The  duke's  a  splendid  paymaster. 


332  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

BUTLER. 

All  over 
With  that,  my  friends !     His  lucky  stars  are  set. 

MACDONALD. 

And  is  that  certain  ? 

BUTLER. 

You  have  my  word  for  it. 

DEVEREUX. 

His  lucky  fortune's  all  passed  by  ? 

BUTLER. 

For  ever. 
He  is  as  poor  as  we. 

MACDONALD. 

As  poor  as  we  ? 

DEVEREUX. 

Macdonald,  we'll  desert  him. 

BUTLER. 

We'll  desert  him  ? 
Full  twenty  thousand  have  done  that  already ; 
We  must  do  more,  my  countrymen  !     In  short  — 
We  —  we  must  kill  him. 

BOTH  (starting  back). 
Kill  him ! 

BUTLER. 

Yes,  must  kill  him  ; 
And  for  that  purpose  have  I  chosen  you. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  333 

BOTH. 

Us! 

BUTLEE. 

You,  Captain  Devereux,  and  thee,  Macdonald. 

devereux  (after  a  pause). 
Choose  you  some  other. 

BUTLEE. 

What !  art  dastardly  ? 
Thou,  with  full  thirty  lives  to  answer  for  — 
Thou  conscientious  of  a  sudden  ? 

DEVEREUX. 

Nay, 
To  assassinate  our  lord  and  general  — 

MACDONALD. 

To  whom  we  swore  a  soldier's  oath  — 


The  oath 


BUTLER. 

Is  null,  for  Friedland  is  a  traitor. 

DEVEREUX. 

No,  no  !  it  is  too  bad  ! 

MACDONALD. 

Yes,  by  my  soul ! 
It  is  too  bad.     One  has  a  conscience  too  — 

DEVEREUX. 

If  it  were  not  our  chieftain,  who  so  long 

Has  issued  the  commands,  and  claimed  our  duty 


334  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

BUTLER. 

Is  that  the  objection  ? 

DEVEREUX. 

Were  it  my  own  father, 
And  the  emperor's  service  should  demand  it  of  me, 
It  might  be  done  perhaps  —  but  we  are  soldiers, 
And  to  assassinate  our  chief  commander, 
That  is  a  sin,  a  foul  abomination, 
From  which  no  monk  or  confessor  absolves  us. 

BUTLER. 

I  am  your  pope,  and  give  you  absolution. 
Determine  quickly ! 

DEVEREUX. 

'Twill  not  do. 

MACDONALD. 

'Twon't  do. 

BUTLER. 

Well,  o,f  then  !  and  —  send  Pestalutz  to  me. 

devereux  (hesitates). 
The  Pestalutz  — 

MACDONALD. 

What  may  you  want  with  him  ? 

BUTLER. 

If  you  reject  it,  we  can  find  enough  — 

DEVEREUX. 

Nay,  if  he  must  fall,  we  may  earn  the  bounty 
As  well  as  any  other.     What  think  you, 
Brother  Macdonald  ? 


THE  DEATH  OF  WALLENSTEIN       335 
MACDONALD. 

Why,  if  he  must  fall, 
And  will  fall,  and  it  can't  be  otherwise, 
One  would  not  give  place  to  this  Pestalutz. 

devereux  {after  some  reflection). 
When  do  you  purpose  he  should  fall  ? 

BUTLER. 

This  night. 
To-morrow  will  the  Swedes  be  at  our  gates. 

DEVEREUX. 

You  take  upon  you  all  the  consequences  ? 

BUTLER. 

I  take  the  whole  upon  me. 

DEVEREUX. 

And  it  is 
The  emperor's  will,  his  express  absolute  will  ? 
For  we  have  instances  that  folks  may  like 
The  murder,  and  yet  hang  the  murderer. 

BUTLER. 

The  manifesto  says  —  "  alive  or  dead." 
Alive  —  'tis  not  possible  —  you  see  it  is  not. 

DEVEREUX. 

Well,  dead  then  !  dead  !  But  how  can  we  come  at  him  ? 
The  town  is  filled  with  Terzky's  soldiery. 

MACDONALD. 

Ay !  and  then  Terzky  still  remains,  and  Illo  — 


336  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

BUTLEE. 

With  these  you  shall  begin  —  you  understand  me  ? 

DEVEREUX. 

How  ?     And  must  they  too  perish  ? 

BUTLER. 

They  the  first. 

MACDONALD. 

Hear,  Devereux !     A  bloody  evening  this. 

DEVEREUX. 

Have  you  a  man  for  that  ?     Commission  me  — 

BUTLER. 

'Tis  given  in  trust  to  Major  Geraldin ; 
This  is  a  carnival  night,  and  there's  a  feast 
Given  at  the  castle  —  there  we  shall  surprise  them, 
And  hew  them  down.     The  Pestalutz  and  Lesley 
Have  that  commission.     Soon  as  that  is  finished  — 

DEVEREUX. 

Hear,  general !     It  will  be  all  one  to  you  — 
Hark  ye,  let  me  exchange  with  Geraldin. 

BUTLER. 

'Twill  be  the  lesser  danger  with  the  duke. 

DEVEREUX. 

Danger !     The  devil !    What  do  you  think  me,  general, 
'Tis  the  duke's  eye,  and  not  his  sword,  I  fear. 

BUTLER. 

What  can  his  eye  do  to  thee  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  337 

DEVEREUX. 

Death  and  hell ! 
Thou  knowest  that  I'm  no  milksop,  general ! 
But  'tis  not  eight  days  since  the  duke  did  send  me 
Twenty  gold  pieces  for  this  good  warm  coat 
Which  I  have  on !  and  then  for  him  to  see  me 
Standing  before  him  with  the  pike,  his  murderer, 
That  eye  of  his  looking  upon  this  coat  — 
Why  —  why  —  the  devil  fetch  me  !     I'm  no  milksop  ! 


BUTLER. 

The  duke  presented  thee  this  good  warm  coat, 

And  thou,  a  needy  wight,  hast  pangs  of  conscience 

To  run  him  through  the  body  in  return. 

A  coat  that  is  far  better  and  far  warmer 

Did  the  emperor  give  to  him,  the  prince's  mantle. 

How  doth  he  thank  the  emperor  ?     With  revolt 

And  treason. 

DEVEREUX. 

That  is  true.     The  devil  take 
Such  thankers !     I'll  despatch  him. 


BUTLER. 

And  would'st  quiet 
Thy  conscience,  thou  hast  naught  to  do  but  simply 
Pull  off  the  coat ;  so  canst  thou  do  the  deed 
With  light  heart  and  good  spirits. 


DEVEREUX. 

You  are  right. 
That  did  not  strike  me.     I'll  pull  off  the  coat  — 
So  there's  an  end  of  it. 


338       THE  DEATH  OF  WALLENSTEIN 

MACDONALD. 

Yes,  but  there's  another 
Point  to  be  thought  of. 

BUTLER. 

And  what's  that,  Macdonald  ? 

MACDONALD. 

What  avails  sword  or  dagger  against  him  ? 
He  is  not  to  be  wounded  —  he  is  — 

butler  (starting  up). 

What! 

MACDONALD. 

Safe  against  shot,  and  stab,  and  flash  !     Hard  frozen, 
Secured  and  warranted  by  the  black  art ! 
His  body  is  impenetrable,  I  tell  you. 

DEVEREUX. 

In  Ingolstadt  there  was  just  such  another : 
His  whole  skin  was  the  same  as  steel ;  at  last 
We  were  obliged  to  beat  him  down  with  gunstocks. 

MACDONALD. 

Hear  what  I'll  do. 

DEVEREUX. 

Well? 

MACDONALD. 

In  the  cloister  here 
There's  a  Dominican,  my  countryman. 
I'll  make  him  dip  my  sword  and  pike  for  me 
In  holy  water,  and  say  over  them 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  339 

One  of  his  strongest  blessings.     That's  probatum  ! 
Nothing  can  stand  'gainst  that. 


BUTLER. 

So  do,  Macdonald ! 
But  now  go  and  select  from  out  the  regiment 
Twenty  or  thirty  able-bodied  fellows, 
And  let  them  take  the  oaths  to  the  emperor. 
Then  when  it  strikes  eleven,  when  the  first  rounds 
Are  passed,  conduct  them  silently  as  may  be 
To  the  house.     I  will  myself  be  not  far  oft'. 

DEVEREUX. 

But  how  do  we  get  through  Hartschier  and  Gordon, 
That  stand  on  guard  there  in  the  inner  chamber? 

BUTLER. 

I  have  made  myself  acquainted  with  the  place, 

I  lead  you  through  a  back  door  that's  defended 

By  one  man  only.     Me  my  rank  and  office 

Give  access  to  the  duke  at  every  hour. 

I'll  go  before  you  —  with  one  poniard-stroke 

Cut  Hartschier's  windpipe,  and  make  way  for  you. 

DEVEREUX. 

And  when  we  are  there,  by  what  means  shall  we  gain 
The  duke's  bedchamber,  without  his  alarming 
The  servants  of  the  court  ?  for  he  has  here 
A  numerous  company  of  followers. 

BUTLER. 

The  attendants  fill  the  right  wing :  he  hates  bustle 
And  lodges  in  the  left  wing  quite  alone. 


34Q  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 


DEVEREUX. 


Were  it  well  over  —  hey,  Macdonald !     I 
Feel  queerly  on  the  occasion,  devil  knows. 


MACDONALD. 


And  I,  too.     Tis  too  great  a  personage. 
People  will  hold  us  for  a  brace  of  villains. 

BUTLER. 

In  plenty,  honour,  splendour  —  you  may  safely 
Laugh  at  the  people's  babble. 

DEVEREUX. 

If  the  business 
Squares  with  one's  honour  —  if  that  be  quite  certain. 

BUTLER. 

Set  your  hearts  quite  at  ease.     Ye  save  for  Ferdinand 
His  crown  and  empire.     The  reward  can  be 
No  small  one. 

DEVEREUX. 

And  'tis  his  purpose  to  dethrone  the  emperor  ? 

BUTLER. 

Yes !  Yes !  to  rob  him  of  his  crown  and  life. 

DEVEREUX. 

And  must  he  fall  by  the  executioner's  hands, 
Should  we  deliver  him  up  to  the  emperor 
Alive? 

BUTLER. 

It  were  his  certain  destiny. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  341 

DEVEREUX. 

Well !  Well !  Come  then,  Macdonald,  he  shall  not 
Lie  long  in  pain. 

[Exeunt  Butler  through  one  door,  Macdonald  and 
Devereux  through  the  other. 


Scene  III. 

A  saloon,  terminated  by  a  gallery,  which  extends  far 
into  the  background. 

Wallenstein  sitting  at  a  table.     The  Swedish  Cap- 
tain standing  before  him. 

wallenstein. 

Commend  me  to  your  lord.     I  sympathise 

In  his  good  fortune  ;  and  if  you  have  seen  me 

Deficient  in  the  expressions  of  that  joy, 

Which  such  a  victory  might  well  demand, 

Attribute  it  to  no  lack  of  good  will, 

For  henceforth  are  our  fortunes  one.     Farewell, 

And  for  your  trouble  take  my  thanks.     To-morrow 

The  citadel  shall  be  surrendered  to  you 

On  your  arrival. 

[The  Swedish  Captain  retires.  Wallenstein  sits 
lost  in  thought,  his  eyes  fixed  vacantly,  and  his 
head  sustained  by  his  hand.  The  Countess 
Terzky  enters,  stands  before  him  for  awhile, 
unobserved  by  him  ;  at  length  he  starts,  sees 
her  and  recollects  himself. 

wallenstein. 

Comest  thou  from  her  ?      Is  she  restored  ?      How  is 
she  ? 


342  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

COUNTESS. 

My  sister  tells  me  she  was  more  collected 
After  her  conversation  with  the  Swede. 
She  has  now  retired  to  rest. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  pang  will  soften, 
She  will  shed  tears. 

COUNTESS. 

I  find  thee  altered,  too, 
My  brother !     After  such  a  victory 
I  had  expected  to  have  found  in  thee 
A  cheerful  spirit.     Oh,  remain  thou  firm ! 
Sustain,  uphold  us  !     For  our  light  thou  art, 
Our  sun. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Be  quiet.     I  ail  nothing.     Where's 
Thy  husband  ? 

COUNTESS. 

At  a  banquet  —  he  and  Illo. 

wallenstein  (rises  and  strides  across  the  saloon). 
The  night's  far  spent.     Betake  thee  to  thy  chamber. 

COUNTESS. 

Bid  me  not  go,  oh,  let  me  stay  with  thee ! 

wallenstein  (moves  to  the  window). 

There  is  a  busy  motion  in  the  heaven, 

The  wind  doth  chase  the  flag  upon  the  tower, 

Fast  sweep  the  clouds,  the  sickle *  of  the  moon, 

1  These  four  lines  are  expressed  in  the  original  with  exquisite 
felicity  : 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  343 

Struggling,  darts  snatches  of  uncertain  light. 

No  form  of  star  is  visible !     That  one 

White  stain  of  light,  that  single  glimmering  yonder, 

Is  from  Cassiopeia,  and  therein 

Is  Jupiter.     (A  pause.)     But  now 

The  blackness  of  the  troubled  element  hides  him ! 

[Re  sinks   into  profound  melancholy,   and    looks 
vacantly  into  the  distance. 

countess  (looks  on  him  mournfully,  then  grasps  his 

hand). 

What  art  thou  brooding  on  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Methinks 
If  I  but  saw  him,  'twould  be  well  with  me. 
He  is  the  star  of  my  nativity, 
And  often  marvellously  hath  his  aspect 
Shot  strength  into  my  heart. 

COUNTESS. 

Thou'lt  see  him  again. 

"  Am  Himmel  ist  geschaftige  Bewegung. 
Des  Thurmes  Fahne  jagt  der  Wind,  schnell  geht 
Der  Wolken  Zug,  die  Mondessichel  wankt, 
Und  durch  die  Nacht  zuckt  ungewisse  Helle." 

The  word  "moon-sickle"  reminds  me  of  a  passage  in  Harris, 
as  quoted  by  Johnson,  under  the  word  "  falcated."  "  The  enlight- 
ened part  of  the  moon  appears  in  the  form  of  a  sickle  or  reaping- 
hook,  which  is  while  she  is  moving  from  the  conjunction  to 
the  opposition,  or  from  the  new  moon  to  the  full :  but  from  full 
to  a  new  again  the  enlightened  part  appears  gibbous,  and  the  dark 
falcated.'1'' 

The  words  "  wanken  "  and  "  schweben  "  are  not  easily  trans- 
lated. The  English  words  by  which  we  attempt  to  render  them 
are  either  vulgar  or  pedantic,  or  not  of  sufficiently  general  appli- 
cation. So  "der  Wolken  Zug"— the  draft,  the  procession  of 
clouds.  The  masses  of  the  clouds  sweep  onward  in  swift 
stream. 


344  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

WALLENSTEIN  (remains  for  awhile  with  absent  mind, 
then  assumes  a  livelier  manner,  and  turning  sud- 
denly to  the  countess). 

See  him  again  ?     Oh,  never,  never  again  ! 

COUNTESS. 

How? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He  is  gone  —  is  dust. 

COUNTESS. 

Whom  meanest  thou,  then  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

He,  the  more  fortunate  !  yea,  he  hath  finished ! 

For  him  there  is  no  longer  any  future ; 

His  life  is  bright  —  bright  without  spot  it  was, 

And  cannot  cease  to  be.     No  ominous  hour 

Knocks  at  his  door  with  tidings  of  mishap, 

Far  off  is  he,  above  desire  and  fear ; 

No  more  submitted  to  the  change  and  chance 

Of  the  unsteady  planets.     Oh,  'tis  well 

With  him !  but  who  knows  what  the  coming  hour 

Veiled  in  thick  darkness  brings  us  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Thou  speakest 
Of  Piccolomini.     What  was  his  death  ? 
The  courier  had  just  left  thee  as  I  came. 

[Wallenstein  by  a  motion  of  his  hand  makes  signs 
to  her  to  be  silent. 
Turn  not  thine  eyes  upon  the  backward  view, 
Let  us  look  forward  into  sunny  days, 
Welcome  with  joyous  heart  the  victory, 
Forget  what  it  has  cost  thee.     Not  to-day, 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  345 

For  the  first  time,  thy  friend  was  to  thee  dead ; 
To  thee  he  died  when  first  he  parted  from  thee. 


WALLENSTEIN. 

This  anguish  will  be  wearied  down,1  I  know ; 

What  pang  is  permanent  with  man  ?  From  the  highest, 

As  from  the  vilest  thing  of  every  day, 

He  learns  to  wean  himself  :  for  the  strong  hours 

Conquer  him.     Yet  I  feel  what  I  have  lost 

In  him.     The  bloom  is  vanished  from  my  life, 

For  oh,  he  stood  beside  me,  like  my  youth, 

Transformed  for  me  the  real  to  a  dream, 

Clothing  the  palpable  and  the  familiar 

With  golden  exhalations  of  the  dawn. 

Whatever  fortunes  wait  my  future  toils, 

The  beautiful  is  vanished  —  and  returns  not. 


COUNTESS. 

Oh,  be  not  treacherous  to  thy  own  power. 
Thy  heart  is  rich  enough  to  vivify 
Itself.     Thou  lovest  and  prizest  virtues  in  him, 
The  which  thyself  didst  plant,  thyself  unfold. 

WALLENSTEIN  (stepping  to  the  door). 

Who  interrupts  us  now  at  this  late  hour  ? 

It  is  the  governor.     He  brings  the  keys 

Of  the  citadel.     'Tis  midnight.     Leave  me,  sister ! 

1 A  very  inadequate  translation  of  the  original : 

"  Verschmerzen  werd'  ich  diesen  Schlag,  das  weiss  ich, 
Denn  was  verschmerzte  nicht  der  Mensch  !  " 

LITERALLY. 

"  I  shall  grieve  down  this  blow,  of  that  I'm  conscious  : 
What  does  not  man  grieve  down  ?  " 


346  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

COUNTESS. 

Oh,  'tis  so  hard  to  me  this  night  to  leave  thee ; 
A  boding  fear  possesses  me  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Fear !     Wherefore  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Shouldst  thou  depart  this  night,  and  we  at  waking 
Never  more  find  thee  ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Fancies ! 

COUNTESS. 

Oh,  my  soul 
Has  long  been  weighed  down  by  these  dark  forebodings, 
And  if  I  combat  and  repel  them  waking, 
They  still  crush  down  upon  my  heart  in  dreams. 
I  saw  thee,  yesternight,  with  thy  first  wife 
Sit  at  a  banquet,  gorgeously  attired. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

This  was  a  dream  of  favourable  omen, 

That  marriage  being  the  founder  of  my  fortunes. 

COUNTESS. 

To-day  I  dreamed  that  I  was  seeking  thee 

In  thy  own  chamber.     As  I  entered,  lo ! 

It  was  no  more  a  chamber :  the  Chartreuse 

At  Gitschin  'twas,  which  thou  thyself  hast  founded, 

And  where  it  is  thy  will  that  thou  shouldst  be 

Interred. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  347 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thy  soul  is  busy  with  these  thoughts. 

COUNTESS. 

What !  dost  thou  not  believe  that  oft  in  dreams 
A  voice  of  warning  speaks  prophetic  to  us  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  there  exist  such  voices, 

Yet  I  would  not  call  them 

Voices  of  warning  that  announce  to  us 

Only  the  inevitable.     As  the  sun, 

Ere  it  is  risen,  sometimes  paints  its  image 

In  the  atmosphere,  so  often  do  the  spirits 

Of  great  events  stride  on  before  the  events, 

And  in  to-day  already  walks  to-morrow. 

That  which  we  read  of  the  fourth  Henry's  death 

Did  ever  vex  and  haunt  me  like  a  tale 

Of  my  own  future  destiny.     The  king 

Felt  in  his  breast  the  phantom  of  the  knife 

Long  ere  Eavaillac  armed  himself  therewith. 

His  quiet  mind  forsook  him ;  the  phantasma 

Started  him  in  his  Louvre,  chased  him  forth 

Into  the  open  air ;  like  funeral  knells 

Sounded  that  coronation  festival ; 

And  still  with  boding  sense  he  heard  the  tread 

Of  those  feet  that  even  then  were  seeking  him 

Throughout  the  streets  of  Paris. 

COUNTESS. 

And  to  thee 
The  voice  within  thy  soul  bodes  nothing  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Nothing. 
Be  wholly  tranquil. 


348  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

COUNTESS. 

And  another  time 
I  hastened  after  thee,  and  thou  rann'st  from  me 
Through  a  long  suite,  through  many  a  spacious  hall. 
There  seemed  no  end  of  it ;  doors  creaked  and  clapped ; 
I  followed  panting,  but  could  not  overtake  thee ; 
When  on  a  sudden  did  I  feel  myself 
Grasped  from  behind,  —  the  hand  was  cold  that  grasped 

me ; 
'Twas  thou,  and  thou  didst  kiss  me,  and  there  seemed 
A  crimson  covering  to  envelop  us. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

That  is  the  crimson  tapestry  of  my  chamber. 

countess  {gazing  on  him). 

If  it  should  come  to  that  —  if  I  should  see  thee, 

Who  standest  now  before  me  in  the  fulness 

Of  life  —  [She  falls  on  his  breast  and  weeps. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

The  emperor's  proclamation  weighs  upon  thee  — 
Alphabets  wound  not  —  and  he  finds  no  hands. 

COUNTESS. 

If  he  should  find  them,  my  resolve  is  taken  — 
I  bear  about  me  my  support  and  refuge. 

[Exit  Countess. 

Scene  IV. 

WALLENSTEIN,   GORDON. 
WALLENSTEIN. 

All  quiet  in  the  town  ? 


THE   DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  349 

GORDON. 

The  town  is  quiet. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

I  hear  a  boisterous  music !  and  the  castle 
Is  lighted  up.     Who  are  the  revellers  ? 

GORDON. 

There  is  a  banquet  given  at  the  castle 

To  the  Count  Terzky  and  Field-Marshal  Illo. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

In  honour  of  the  victory  —  this  tribe 

Can  show  their  joy  in  nothing  else  but  feasting. 

[Rings.     The  Groom  of  the  Chamber  enters. 
Unrobe  me.     I  will  lay  me  down  to  sleep. 

[Wallenstein  takes  the  keys  from  Gordon. 
So  we  are  guarded  from  all  enemies, 
And  shut  in  with  sure  friends. 
For  all  must  cheat  me,  or  a  face  like  this 

[Fixing  his  eyes  on  Gordon. 
Was  ne'er  a  hypocrite's  mask. 

[The  Groom  of  the  Chamber  takes  off  his  man- 
tle, collar,  and  scarf. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Take  care  —  what  is  that  ? 

GROOM    OF   THE    CHAMBER. 

The  golden  chain  is  snapped  in  two. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Well,  it  has  lasted  long  enough.     Here  —  give  it. 

[He  takes  and  looks  at  the  chain. 


35 o  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

'Twas  the  first  present  of  the  emperor. 

He  hung  it  round  me  in  the  war  of  Friule, 

He  being  then  archduke ;  and  I  have  worn  it 

Till  now  from  habit  — 

From  superstition,  if  you  will.     Belike, 

It  was  to  be  a  talisman  to  me ; 

And  while  I  wore  it  on  my  neck  in  faith, 

It  was  to  chain  to  me  all  my  life  long 

The  volatile  fortune,  whose  first  pledge  it  was. 

Well,  be  it  so  !     Henceforward  a  new  fortune 

Must  spring  up  for  me ;  for  the  potency 

Of  this  charm  is  dissolved. 

[Gkoom  of  the  Chamber  retires  with  the  vest- 
ments. Wallenstein  rises,  takes  a  stride 
across  the  room,  and  stands  at  last  before 
Gordon  in  a  posture  of  meditation. 

How  the  old  time  returns  upon  me !     I 

Behold  myself  once  more  at  Burgau,  where 

We  two  were  pages  of  the  court  together. 

We  oftentimes  disputed :  thy  intention 

Was  ever  good ;  but  thou  wert  wont  to  play 

The  moralist  and  preacher,  and  wouldst  rail  at  me  — 

That  I  strove  after  things  too  high  for  me, 

Giving  my  faith  to  bold,  unlawful  dreams, 

And  still  extol  to  me  the  golden  mean. 

Thy  wisdom  hath  been  proved  a  thriftless  friend 

To  thy  own  self.     See,  it  has  made  thee  early 

A  superannuated  man,  and  (but 

That  my  munificent  stars  will  intervene) 

Would  let  thee  in  some  miserable  corner 

Go  out  like  an  untended  lamp. 

GORDON. 

My  prince ! 
With  Light  heart  the  poor  fisher  moors  his  boat, 
And  watches  from  the  shore  the  lofty  ship 
Stranded  amid  the  storm. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  351 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Art  thou  already 
In  harbour,  then,  old  man  ?     Well !  I  am  not. 
The  unconquered  spirit  drives  me  o'er  life's  billows ; 
My  planks  still  firm,  my  canvas  swelling  proudly. 
Hope  is  my  goddess  still,  and  youth  my  inmate ; 
And  while  we  stand  thus  front  to  front  almost, 
I  might  presume  to  say,  that  the  swift  years 
Have  passed  by  powerless  o'er  my  unblanched  hair. 

\He  moves  with  long  strides  across  the  saloon,  and 

remains  on   the   opposite   side   over   against 

Gordon. 
Who  now  persists  in  calling  fortune  false  ? 
To  me  she  has  proved  faithful ;  with  fond  love 
Took  me  from  out  the  common  ranks  of  men, 
And,  like  a  mother  goddess,  with  strong  arm 
Carried  me  swiftly  up  the  steps  of  life. 
Nothing  is  common  in  my  destiny, 
Nor  in  the  furrows  of  my  hand.     Who  dares 
Interpret  then  my  life  for  me  as  'twere 
One  of  the  undistinguishable  many  ? 
True,  in  this  present  moment  I  appear 
Fallen  low  indeed ;  but  I  shall  rise  again. 
The  high  flood  will  soon  follow  on  this  ebb ; 
The  fountain  of  my  fortune,  which  now  stops, 
Eepressed  and  bound  by  some  malicious  star, 
Will  soon  in  joy  play  forth  from  all  its  pipes. 

GORDON. 

And  yet  remember  I  the  good  old  proverb, 
"  Let  the  night  come  before  we  praise  the  day." 
I  would  be  slow  from  long-continued  fortune 
To  gather  hope :  for  hope  is  the  companion 
Given  to  the  unfortunate  by  pitying  heaven. 
Fear  hovers  round  the  head  of  prosperous  men, 
For  still  unsteady  are  the  scales  of  fate. 


352  THE    DEATH    OF   WALLENSTEIN 

wallenstein  {smiling). 

I  hear  the  very  Gordon  that  of  old 

Was  wont  to  preach,  now  once  more  preaching ; 

I  know  well,  that  all  sublunary  things 

Are  still  the  vassals  of  vicissitude. 

The  unpropitious  gods  demand  their  tribute. 

This  long  ago  the  ancient  pagans  knew : 

And  therefore  of  their  own  accord  they  offered 

To  themselves  injuries,  so  to  atone 

The  jealousy  of  their  divinities : 

And  human  sacrifices  bled  to  Typhon. 

[After  a  pause,  serious,  and  in  a  more  subdued 
manner. 
I  too  have  sacrificed  to  him  —  for  me 
There  fell  the  dearest  friend,  and  through  my  fault 
He  fell !     No  joy  from  favourable  fortune 
Can  overweigh  the  anguish  of  this  stroke. 
The  envy  of  my  destiny  is  glutted  : 
Life  pays  for  life.     On  his  pure  head  the  lightning 
Was  drawn  off  which  would  else  have  shattered  me. 

Scene  V. 
To  these  enter  Seni. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Is  not  that  Seni  ?  and  beside  himself, 

If  one  can  trust  his  looks  ?     What  brings  thee  hither 

At  this  late  hour,  Baptista  ? 

SENI. 

Terror,  duke  ! 
On  thy  account. 

WALLENSTEIN. 
What  now  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  353 

SENI. 

Flee  ere  the  day  break ! 
Trust  not  thy  person  to  the  Swedes ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  now 
Is  in  thy  thoughts  ? 

seni  (with  louder  voice). 
Trust  not  thy  person  to  the  Swedes. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

What  is  it,  then  ? 

SENI  (still  more  urgently*). 

Oh,  wait  not  the  arrival  of  these  Swedes ! 

An  evil  near  at  hand  is  threatening  thee 

From  false  friends.     All  the  signs  stand  full  of  horror ! 

Near,  near  at  hand  the  network  of  perdition  — 

Yea,  even  now  'tis  being  cast  around  thee ! 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Baptista,  thou  art  dreaming !  —  fear  befools  thee. 

SENI. 

Believe  not  that  an  empty  fear  deludes  me. 
Come,  read  it  in  the  planetary  aspects ; 
Read  it  thyself,  that  ruin  threatens  thee 
From  false  friends. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

From  the  falseness  of  my  friends 
Has  risen  the  whole  of  my  unprosperous  fortunes. 
The  warning  should  have  come  before  !     At  present 


354  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

I  need  no  revelation  from  the  stars 
To  know  that. 

SENI. 

Come  and  see  !  trust  thine  own  eyes. 
A  fearful  sign  stands  in  the  house  of  life  — 
An  enemy  ;  a  fiend  lurks  close  behind 
The  radiance  of  thy  planet.     Oh,  be  warned ! 
Deliver  not  up  thyself  to  these  heathens, 
To  wage  a  war  against  our  holy  church. 

wallenstein  {laughing  gently). 

The  oracle  rails  that  way  !     Yes,  yes !     Now 
I  recollect.     This  junction  with  the  Swedes 
Did  never  please  thee  —  lay  thyself  to  sleep, 
Baptista !     Signs  like  these  I  do  not  fear. 

GOKDON  (who  during  the  whole  of  this  dialogue  has 
shown  marks  of  extreme  agitation,  and  now  turns 
to  WALLENSTEIN). 

My  duke  and  general !     May  I  dare  presume  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Speak  freely. 

GORDON. 

What  if  'twere  no  mere  creation 
Of  fear,  if  God's  high  providence  vouchsafed 
To  interpose  its  aid  for  your  deliverance, 
And  made  that  mouth  its  organ  ? 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Ye're  both  feverish ! 
How  can  mishap  come  to  me  from  the  Swedes  ? 
They  sought  this  junction  with  me  —  'tis  their  interest. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  355 

GORDON  (with  difficulty  suppressing  his  emotion). 

But  what  if  the  arrival  of  these  Swedes  — 
What  if  this  were  the  very  thing  that  winged 
The  ruin  that  is  flying  to  your  temples  ? 

\Flings  himself  at  his  feet. 
There  is  yet  time,  my  prince. 

SENI. 

Oh,  hear  him  !  hear  him ! 

GORDON  (rises). 

The  Rhinegrave's  still  far  off.     Give  but  the  orders, 

This  citadel  shall  close  its  gates  upon  him. 

If  then  he  will  besiege  us,  let  him  try  it. 

But  this  I  say :  he'll  find  his  own  destruction, 

With  his  whole  force  before  these  ramparts,  sooner 

Than  weary  down  the  valour  of  our  spirit. 

He  shall  experience  what  a  band  of  heroes, 

Inspirited  by  an  heroic  leader, 

Is  able  to  perform.     And  if  indeed 

It  be  thy  serious  wish  to  make  amend 

For  that  which  thou  hast  done  amiss,  —  this,  this 

Will  touch  and  reconcile  the  emperor, 

Who  gladly  turns  his  heart  to  thoughts  of  mercy ; 

And  Friedland,  who  returns  repentant  to  him, 

Will  stand  yet  higher  in  his  emperor's  favour 

Than  e'er  he  stood  when  he  had  never  fallen. 

wallenstein  (contemplates  him  with  surprise,  remains 
silent  awhile,  betraying  strong  emotion). 

Gordon  —  your  zeal  and  fervour  lead  you  far. 
Well,  well  —  an  old  friend  has  a  privilege. 
Blood,  Gordon,  has  been  flowing.     Never,  never 
Can  the  emperor  pardon  me :  and  if  he  could, 
Yet  I  —  I  ne'er  could  let  myself  be  pardoned. 
Had  I  foreknown  what  now  has  taken  place, 
That  he,  my  dearest  friend,  would  fall  for  me, 


356  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

My  first  death  offering ;  and  had  the  heart 

Spoken  to  me,  as  now  it  has  done  —  Gordon, 

It  may  be,  I  might  have  bethought  myself. 

It  may  be,  too,  I  might  not.     Might  or  might  not 

Is  now  an  idle  question.     All  too  seriously 

Has  it  begun  to  end  in  nothing,  Gordon ! 

Let  it  then  have  its  course.        [Stepping  to  the  window. 

All  dark  and  silent  —  at  the  castle  too 

All  is  now  hushed.     Light  me,  chamberlain ! 

[The  Gkoom  of  the  Chambee,  who  had  entered 
during  the  last  dialogue,  and  had  been  stand- 
ing at  a  distance  and  listening   to  it  with 
visible    expressions    of    the   deepest    interest, 
advances   in   extreme    agitation   and  throivs 
himself  at  the  Duke's  feet. 
And  thou  too !     But  I  know  why  thou  dost  wish 
My  reconcilement  with  the  emperor. 
Poor  man !  he  hath  a  small  estate  in  Carinthia, 
And  fears  it  will  be  forfeited  because 
He's  in  my  service.     Am  I  then  so  poor 
That  I  no  longer  can  indemnify 
My  servants  ?     Well !  to  no  one  I  employ 
Means  of  compulsion.     If  'tis  thy  belief 
That  fortune  has  fled  from  me,  go !  forsake  me. 
This  night  for  the  last  time  mayst  thou  unrobe  me, 
And  then  go  over  to  the  emperor. 
Gordon,  good  night !     I  think  to  make  a  long 
Sleep  of  it :  for  the  struggle  and  the  turmoil 
Of  this  last  day  or  two  was  great.     May't  please  you ! 
Take  care  that  they  awake  me  not  too  early. 

[Exit  Wallenstein,  the  Groom  of  the  Chamber 
lighting  him.  Seni  follows,  Gordon  remains 
on  the  darkened  stage,  following  the  Duke 
with  his  eye,  till  he  disappears  at  the  further 
end  of  the  gallery :  then  by  his  gestures  the 
old  man  expresses  the  depth  of  his  anguish, 
and  stands  leaning  against  a  pillar. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  357 

Scene  VI. 

Gordon,  Butler  (at  first  behind  the  scenes). 

butler  (not  yet  come  into  view  of  the  stage"). 
Here  stand  in  silence  till  I  give  the  signal. 

Gordon  (starts  up). 
Tis  he !  he  has  already  brought  the  murderers. 

BUTLER. 

The  lights  are  out.     All  lies  in  profound  sleep. 

GORDON. 

What  shall  I  do  ?  shall  I  attempt  to  save  him  ? 
Shall  I  call  up  the  house  ?  alarm  the  guards  ? 

butler  (appears,  but  scarcely  on  the  stage). 

A  light  gleams  hither  from  the  corridor. 
It  leads  directly  to  the  duke's  bedchamber. 

GORDON. 

But  then  I  break  my  oath  to  the  emperor ; 
If  he  escape  and  strengthen  the  enemy, 
Do  I  not  hereby  call  down  on  my  head 
All  the  dread  consequences  ? 

butler  (stepping  forward). 

Hark  !    Who  speaks  there  ? 

GORDON. 

'Tis  better,  I  resign  it  to  the  hands 
Of  Providence.     For  what  am  I,  that  I 


35S  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Should  take  upon  myself  so  great  a  deed  ? 
I  have  not  murdered  him,  if  he  be  murdered ; 
But  all  his  rescue  were  my  act  and  deed ; 
Mine  —  and  whatever  be  the  consequences 
I  must  sustain  them. 

butler  (advanet 

I  should  know  that  voice. 

GOBDON. 

Butler 

BUTLER. 

"Ea  Gordon.     What  do  you  want  here  ? 
Was  it  so  late,  then,  when  the  duke  dismissed  you  ? 

GOEB 

Your  hand  bound  up  and  in  a  scarf  ? 

BUTLEB. 

"lis  wounded. 
That  Lllo  fought  as  he  were  frantic,  till 
At  last  we  threw  him  on  the  ground. 

goedon  {shuddering}. 

Both  dead  ? 

BUTLER. 

Is  he  in  bed  ? 

GOEDON. 

Ah,  Butler ! 

BUTLEE. 

Is  he  ?  speak. 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  359 

GORDON. 

He  shall  not  perish !     Not  through  you  !     The  heaven 
Refuses  your  arm.     See  —  'tis  wounded  ! 

BUTLER. 

There  is  no  need  of  my  arm. 

GORDON. 

The  most  guilty 
Have  perished,  and  enough  is  given  to  justice. 

[The  Groom  of  the  Chamber  advances  from  the 
gallery  with  his  finger  on  his  mouth  com- 
manding silence. 

GORDON. 

He  sleeps !     Oh,  murder  not  the  holy  sleep ! 

BUTLER. 

No !  he  shall  die  awake.  [Is  going. 

GORDON. 

His  heart  still  cleaves 
To  earthly  things  :  he's  not  prepared  to  step 
Into  the  presence  of  his  God  ! 

BUTLER  (going). 

God's  merciful ! 

GORDON  (holds  him). 
Grant  him  but  this  night's  respite. 

butler  (hurrying  off~). 

The  next  moment 
May  ruin  all. 


360  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

GORDON  (holds  him  still). 
One  hour !  — 

BUTLER. 

Unhold  me !     What 
Can  that  short  respite  profit  him  ? 

GORDON. 

Oh,  time 
Works  miracles.     In  one  hour  many  thousands 
Of  grains  of  sand  run  out ;  and  quick  as  they 
Thought  follows  thought  within  the  human  soul. 
Only  one  hour !     Your  heart  may  change  its  purpose, 
His  heart  may  change  its  purpose  —  some  new  tidings 
May  come ;  some  fortunate  event,  decisive, 
May  fall  from  heaven  and  rescue  him.     Oh,  what 
May  not  one  hour  achieve  ! 

BUTLER. 

You  but  remind  me 
How  precious  every  minute  is ! 

[He  stamps  on  the  floor. 

Scene  VII. 

To  these  enter  Macdonald  and  Devereux  with  the 

Halberdiers. 

GORDON  {throwing  himself  between  him  and  them). 

No,  monster ! 
First  over  my  dead  body  thou  shalt  tread. 
I  will  not  live  to  see  the  accursed  deed ! 

butler  (forcing  him  out  of  the  way). 

Weak-hearted  dotard ! 

[Trumpets  are  heard  in  the  distance. 


THE  DEATH  OF  WALLENSTEIN       361 
DEVEKEUX  and  MACDONALD. 

Hark  !     The  Swedish  trumpets ! 
The  Swedes  before  the  ramparts !     Let  us  hasten ! 

GORDON  {rushes  out). 
Oh,  God  of  mercy  ! 

butler  {calling  after  him). 
Governor,  to  your  post ! 

geoom  OF  the  chamber  {hurries  in). 

Who   dares   make    larum   here  ?     Hush !     The   duke 
sleeps. 

devereux  {with  loud,  harsh  voice). 
Friend,  it  is  time  now  to  make  larum. 

GROOM    OF   THE    CHAMBER. 

Help! 
Murder ! 

BUTLER. 

Down  with  him  ! 

GROOM  of  the  chamber  {run  through  the  body  by 
devereux,  falls  at  the  entrance  of  the  gallery). 

Jesus  Maria ! 

BUTLER. 

Burst  the  doors  open. 

[TJiey  rush  over  the  body  into  the  gallery  —  two 
doors  are  heard  to  crash  one  after  the  other. 
Voices,  deadened  by  the  distance  —  clash  of 
arms  —  then  all  at  once  a  profound  silence. 


362  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 


Scene  VIII. 

COUNTESS   TERZKY   {with  a  light). 

Her  bedchamber  is  empty ;  she  herself 

Is  nowhere  to  be  found !     The  Neubrunn  too, 

Who  watched  by  her,  is  missing.     If  she  should 

Be  flown  —  but  whither  flown  ?     We  must  call  up 

Every  soul  in  the  house.     How  will  the  duke 

Bear  up  against  these  worst  bad  tidings  ?     Oh, 

If  that  my  husband  now  were  but  returned 

Home  from  the  banquet !     Hark  !     I  wonder  whether 

The  duke  is  still  awake !     I  thought  I  heard 

Voices  and  tread  of  feet  here  !     I  will  go 

And  listen  at  the  door.     Hark  !  what  is  that  ? 

'Tis  hastening  up  the  steps  ! 


Scene  IX. 
Countess,  Gordon. 

GORDON  (rushes  in  out  of  breath). 

'Tis  a  mistake ! 
'Tis  not  the  Swedes ;  ye  must  proceed  no  further  — 
Butler !     Oh,  God  !  where  is  he  ? 

[Observing  the  Countess. 
Countess !     Say  — 

COUNTESS. 

You  are  come,  then,  from  the  castle  ?     Where's  my 
husband  ? 

Gordon  (in  an  agony  of  affright). 
Your  husband  !     Ask  not !     To  the  duke  — 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  363 

COUNTESS. 

Not  till 
You  have  discovered  to  me  — 


GORDON. 

On  this  moment 
Does  the  world  hang.     For  God's  sake  !  to  the  duke. 
While  we  are  speaking  —  [  Calling  loudly. 

Butler!  Butler!     God! 

COUNTESS. 

Why,  he  is  at  the  castle  with  my  husband. 

[Butlee  comes  from  the  gallery. 

GORDON. 

'Twas  a  mistake.     Tis  not  the  Swedes  —  it  is 
The  imperialists'  lieutenant-general 
Has  sent  me  hither  —  will  be  here  himself 
Instantly.     You  must  not  proceed. 

butler. 

He  comes 
Too  late.  [Gordon  dashes  himself  against  the  wall. 

GORDON. 

Oh,  God  of  mercy  ! 

COUNTESS. 

What,  too  late  ? 
Who  will  be  here  himself  ?     Octavio 
In  Egra  ?     Treason  !     Treason  !     Where's  the  duke  ? 

[She  rushes  to  the  gallery. 


364  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 


Scene  X. 

Servants  run  across  the  stage  full  of  terror.     The  whole 
scene  must  be  spoken  entirely  without  pauses. 

seni  (from  the  gallery'). 
Oh,  bloody,  frightful  deed ! 

COUNTESS. 

What  is  it,  Seni  ? 

PAGE  (from  the  gallery). 

Oh,  piteous  sight ! 

[Other  servants  hasten  in  with  torches. 

COUNTESS. 

What  is  it  ?     For  God's  sake ! 

SENI. 

And  do  you  ask  ? 
Within  the  duke  lies  murdered  —  and  your  husband 
Assassinated  at  the  castle. 

[TJie  Countess  stands  motionless. 

female  sekvant   (rushing  across  the  stage). 
Help !  help !  the  duchess  ! 

bukgomastek  {enters). 

What  mean  these  confused 
Loud  cries  that  wake  the  sleepers  of  this  house  ? 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  365 

GOKDON. 

Your  house  is  cursed  to  all  eternity. 

In  your  house  doth  the  duke  lie  murdered  ! 

burgomaster  (rushing  out). 

Heaven  forbid ! 

FIRST    SERVANT. 

Fly  !  fly  !  they  murder  us  all ! 

SECOND  servant  (carrying  silver  plate). 

That  way  !  the  lower 
Passages  are  blocked  up. 

voice  (from  behind  the  scene). 

Make  room  for  the  lieutenant-general ! 

[At  these  words  the  Countess  starts  from  her  stu- 
por, collects  herself,  and  retires  suddenly. 

voice  (from  behind  the  scene). 
Keep  back  the  people !     Guard  the  door ! 

Scene  XI. 

To  these  enter  Octavio  Piccolomini  with  all  his  train. 
At  the  same  time  Devereux  and  Macdonald 
enter  from  out  the  corridor  with  the  Halberdiers. 
Wallenstein's  dead  body  is  carried  over  the  back 
part  of  the  stage,  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  crimson 
tapestry. 

octavio  (entering  abruptly'). 

It  must  not  be !     It  is  not  possible ! 
Butler !  Gordon  ! 


366  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

I'll  not  believe  it.     Say  no  ! 

[Gordon,  without  answering,  points  with  his  hand 
to  the  body  of  Wallen  stein  as  it  is  car- 
ried over  the  back  of  the  stage.  Octavio 
looks  that  way,  and  stands  overpowered  with 
horror. 

DEVEREUX  (to  BUTLER). 

Here  is  the  golden  fleece  —  the  duke's  sword  — 

MACDONALD. 

Is  it  your  order  — 

butler  (pointing  to  octavio). 

Here  stands  he  who  now 
Hath  the  whole  power  to  issue  orders. 

[Devereux  and  Macdonald  retire  with  marks 
of  obeisance.  One  drops  away  after  the  other, 
till  only  Butler,  Octavio,  and  Gordon  re- 
main on  the  stage. 

octavio  (turning  to  butler). 

Was  that  my  purpose,  Butler,  when  we  parted  ? 
Oh,  God  of  Justice  ! 

To  Thee  I  lift  my  hand !     I  am  not  guilty 
Of  this  foul  deed. 

BUTLER. 

Your  hand  is  pure.     You  have 
Availed  yourself  of  mine. 

OCTAVIO. 

Merciless  man ! 
Thus  to  abuse  the  orders  of  thy  lord  — 
And  stain  thy  emperor's  holy  name  with  murder, 
With  bloody,  most  accursed  assassination ! 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  367 

BUTLER  (calmly). 
I've  but  fulfilled  the  emperor's  own  sentence. 

OCTAVIO. 

Oh,  curse  of  kings, 

Infusing  a  dread  life  into  their  words, 

And  linking  to  the  sudden,  transient  thought 

The  unchanging,  irrevocable  deed. 

Was  there  necessity  for  such  an  eager 

Despatch  ?     Couldst  thou  not  grant  the  merciful 

A  time  for  mercy  ?     Time  is  man's  good  angel. 

To  leave  no  interval  between  the  sentence, 

And  the  fulfilment  of  it,  doth  beseem 

God  only,  the  immutable  ! 


BUTLER. 

For  what 
Rail  you  against  me  ?     What  is  my  offence  ? 
The  empire  from  a  fearful  enemy 
Have  I  delivered,  and  expect  reward. 
The  single  difference  betwixt  you  and  me 
Is  this  :  you  placed  the  arrow  in  the  bow ; 
I  pulled  the  string.     You  sowed  blood,  and  yet  stand 
Astonished  that  blood  is  come  up.     I  always 
Knew  what  I  did,  and  therefore  no  result 
Hath  power  to  frighten  or  surprise  my  spirit. 
Have  you  aught  else  to  order  ?  for  this  instant 
I  make  my  best  speed  to  Vienna ;  place 
My  bleeding  sword  before  my  emperor's  throne, 
And  hope  to  gain  the  applause  which  undelaying 
And  punctual  obedience  may  demand 
From  a  just  judge.  {Exit  Butler. 


368  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 


Scene  XII. 

To  these  enter  the  Countess  Terzky,  pale  and  disordered. 
Her  utterance  is  slow  and  feeble,  and  unimpassioned. 

octavio  (meeting  her). 

Oh,  Countess  Terzky  !     These  are  the  results 
Of  luckless,  unblest  deeds. 

COUNTESS. 

They  are  the  fruits 
Of  your  contrivances.     The  duke  is  dead, 
My  husband  too  is  dead,  the  duchess  struggles 
In  the  pangs  of  death,  my  niece  has  disappeared ; 
This  house  of  splendour,  and  of  princely  glory, 
Doth  now  stand  desolated :  the  affrighted  servants 
Eush  forth  through  all  its  doors.     I  am  the  last 
Therein :  I  shut  it  up,  and  here  deliver 
The  keys. 

OCTAVIO  (with  a  deep  anguish). 
Oh,  countess !  my  house,  too,  is  desolate. 


COUNTESS. 

Who  next  is  to  be  murdered  ?     Who  is  next 
To  be  maltreated  ?     Lo  !  the  duke  is  dead. 
The  emperor's  vengeance  may  be  pacified ! 
Spare  the  old  servants ;  let  not  their  fidelity 
Be  imputed  to  the  faithful  as  a  crime  — 
The  evil  destiny  surprised  my  brother 
Too  suddenly :  he  could  not  think  on  them. 

OCTAVIO. 

Speak  not  of  vengeance !     Speak  not  of  maltreatment ! 
The  emperor  is  appeased  ;  the  heavy  fault 


THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN  369 

Hath  heavily  been  expiated  —  nothing 
Descended  from  the  father  to  the  daughter, 
Except  his  glory  and  his  services. 
The  empress  honours  your  adversity, 
Takes  part  in  your  afflictions,  opens  to  you 
Her  motherly  arms.     Therefore  no  further  fears. 
Yield  yourself  up  in  hope  and  confidence 
To  the  imperial  grace  ! 

countess  (with  her  eye  raised  to  heaven). 

To  the  grace  and  mercy  of  a  greater  master 

Do  I  yield  up  myself.     Where  shall  the  body 

Of  the  duke  have  its  place  of  final  rest  ? 

In  the  Chartreuse,  which  he  himself  did  found 

At  Gitschin,  rests  the  Countess  Wallenstein ; 

And  by  her  side,  to  whom  he  was  indebted 

For  his  first  fortunes,  gratefully  he  wished 

He  might  sometime  repose  in  death !     Oh,  let  him 

Be  buried  there.     And  likewise,  for  my  husband's 

Eemains  I  ask  the  like  grace.     The  emperor 

Is  now  the  proprietor  of  all  our  castles ; 

This  sure  may  well  be  granted  us  —  one  sepulchre 

Beside  the  sepulchres  of  our  forefathers ! 

OCTAVIO. 

Countess,  you  tremble,  you  turn  pale ! 

countess  (reassembles  all  her  powers,  and  speaks  with 
energy  and  dignity). 

You  think 
More  worthily  of  me  than  to  believe 
I  would  survive  the  downfall  of  my  house. 
We  did  not  hold  ourselves  too  mean  to  grasp 
After  a  monarch's  crown  —  the  crown  did  fate 
Deny,  but  not  the  feeling  and  the  spirit 
That  to  the  crown  belong !     We  deem  a 


37 o  THE    DEATH    OF    WALLENSTEIN 

Courageous  death  more  worthy  of  our  free  station 
Than  a  dishonoured  life.     I  have  taken  poison. 


OCTAVIO. 

Help !     Help  !     Support  her ! 

COUNTESS. 

Nay,  it  is  too  late. 
In  a  few  moments  is  my  fate  accomplished. 

[Exit  Countess. 

GORDON. 

Oh,  house  of  death  and  horrors ! 

[An  Officer  enters,  and  brings  a  letter  with  the 
great  seal.  Gordon  steps  forward  and  meets 
him. 

What  is  this ! 
It  is  the  imperial  seal. 

[He  reads  the  address,  and  delivers  the  letter  to 
Octavio  with  a  look  of  reproach,  and  with 
an  emphasis  on  the  word. 
To  the  Prince  Piccolomini. 

[Octavio,  with  his  whole  frame  expressive  of  sudden 
anguish,  raises  his  eyes  to  heaven. 

(The  curtain  drops.) 


Wallenstein's    Camp 


Preface 

"  The  Camp  of  Wallenstein,"  by  its  vivid  portraiture 
of  the  state  of  the  general's  army,  gives  the  best  clue  to 
the  spell  of  his  gigantic  power.  The  blind  belief  enter- 
tained in  the  unfailing  success  of  his  arms,  and  in  the 
supernatural  agencies  by  which  that  success  is  secured 
to  him ;  the  unrestrained  indulgence  of  every  passion, 
and  utter  disregard  of  all  law,  save  that  of  the  camp ; 
a  hard  oppression  of  the  peasantry  and  plunder  of  the 
country,  have  all  swollen  the  soldiery  with  an  idea  of 
interminable  sway.  But  as  we  have  translated  the 
whole,  we  shall  leave  these  reckless  marauders  to  speak 
for  themselves. 

Of  Schiller's  opinion  concerning  the  "  Camp,"  as  a 
necessary  introduction  to  the  tragedy,  the  following 
passage,  taken  from  the  prologue  to  the  first  representa- 
tion, will  give  a  just  idea,  and  may  also  serve  as  a 
motto  to  the  work  : 

"  Not  he  it  is,  who  on  the  tragic  scene 
Will  now  appear  —  but  in  the  fearless  bands 
Whom  his  command  alone  could  sway,  and  whom 
His  spirit  fired,  you  may  his  shadow  see, 
Until  the  bashful  Muse  shall  dare  to  bring 
Himself  before  you  in  a  living  form ; 
For  power  it  was  that  bore  his  heart  astray. 
His  '  Camp,'  alone,  elucidates  his  crime." 


373 


DKAMATIS  PERSONS 

Sergeant  -  Major,  )  of  a  regiment  of  Terzky's  carabineers. 

Trumpeter,  ) 

Artilleryman. 

Sharpshooters. 

Mounted  Yagers,  of  Hoik's  corps. 

Dragoons,  of  Butler's  regiment. 

Arquebusiers,  of  Tiefenbach's  regiment. 

Cuirassier,  of  a  Walloon  regiment. 

Cuirassier,  of  a  Lombard  regiment. 

Croats. 

HULANS. 

Recruit. 

Citizen. 

Peasant. 

Peasant  Boy. 

Capuchin. 

Regimental  Schoolmaster. 

Sutler  -woman. 

Servant  -  girl. 

Soldier  Boys. 

Musicians. 

Scene.  —  TJie  Camp  before  Pilsen  in  Bohemia. 


Wallenstein's    Camp 


Scene  I. 


Sutlers'  tents  —  in  front,  a  Slop-shop.  Soldiers  of  all 
colours  and  uniforms  thronging  about.  Tables  all 
filled.  Croats  and  Hulans  cooking  at  afire.  Sut- 
ler-woman serving  out  wine.  Soldier-boys  throw- 
ing dice  on  a  drum-head.  Singing  heard  from  the 
tent. 

Enter  a  Peasant  and  his  Son. 

SON. 

Father,  I  fear  it  will  come  to  harm, 

So  let  us  be  off  from  this  soldier  swarm  ; 

But  boist'rous  mates  will  ye  find  in  the  shoal  — 

'Twere  better  to  bolt  while  our  skins  are  whole. 

FATHEK. 

How  now,  boy !  the  fellows  won't  eat  us,  though 
They  may  be  a  little  unruly  or  so. 
See,  yonder,  arriving  a  stranger  train, 
Fresh  comers  are  they  from  the  Saal  and  Mayne ; 
Much  booty  they  bring  of  the  rarest  sort  — 
Tis  ours,  if  we  cleverly  drive  our  sport. 
A  captain,  who  fell  by  his  comrade's  sword, 
This  pair  of  sure  dice  to  me  transferred ; 
To-day  I'll  just  give  them  a  trial  to  see 

375 


376  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

If  their  knack's  as  good  as  it  used  to  be. 
You  must  play  the  part  of  a  pitiful  devil, 
For  these  roaring  rogues,  who  so  loosely  revel, 
Are  easily  smoothed,  and  tricked,  and  flattered, 
And,  free  as  it  came,  their  gold  is  scattered. 
But  we  —  since  by  bushels  our  all  is  taken, 
By  spoonfuls  must  ladle  it  back  again ; 
And,  if  with  their  swords  they  slash  so  highly, 
We  must  look  sharp,  boy,  and  do  them  slyly. 

[Singing  and  shouting  in  the  tent. 
Hark,  how  they  shout !     God  help  the  day  ! 
'Tis  the  peasant's  hide  for  their  sport  must  pay. 
Eight  months  in  our  beds  and  stalls  have  they 
Been  swarming  here,  until  far  around 
Not  a  bird  or  a  beast  is  longer  found, 
And  the  peasant,  to  quiet  his  craving  maw, 
Has  nothing  now  left  but  his  bones  to  gnaw. 
Ne'er  were  we  crushed  with  a  heavier  hand, 
"When  the  Saxon  was  lording  it  o'er  the  land : 
And  these  are  the  emperor's  troops,  they  say ! 

SON. 

From  the  kitchen  a  couple  are  coming  this  way, 
Not  much  shall  we  make  by  such  blades  as  they. 

FATHEK. 

They're  born  Bohemian  knaves  —  the  two  — 
Belonging  to  Terzky's  carabineers, 
Who've  lain  in  these  quarters  now  for  years ; 
The  worst  are  they  of  the  worthless  crew. 
Strutting,  swaggering,  proud  and  vain, 
They  seem  to  think  they  may  well  disdain 
With  the  peasant  a  glass  of  his  wine  to  drain. 
But,  soft  —  to  the  left  o'  the  fire  I  see 
Three  riflemen,  who  from  the  Tyrol  should  be. 
Emmerick,  come,  boy,  to  them  will  we. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  377 

Birds  of  this  feather  'tis  luck  to  find, 

Whose  trim's  so  spruce,  and  their  purse  well  lined. 

[TJiey  move  toward  the  tent. 


Scene  II. 
The  above.     Sergeant-Major,  Trumpeter,  Hulan. 

TRUMPETER. 

What  would  the  boor  ?     Out,  rascal,  away  ! 

PEASANT. 

Some  victuals  and  drink,  worthy  masters,  I  pray, 
For  not  a  warm  morsel  we've  tasted  to-day. 

TRUMPETER. 

Ay,  guzzle  and  guttle  —  'tis  always  the  way. 

HULAN  (with  a  glass). 

Not  broken  your  fast !  there  —  drink,  ye  hound  ! 

[He  leads  the  peasant  to  the  tent  —  the  others  come 
forward. 

sergeant  (to  the  Trumpeter^. 

Think  ye  they've  done  it  without  good  ground  ? 
Is  it  likely  they  double  our  pay  to-day, 
Merely  that  we  may  be  jolly  and  gay  ? 

trumpeter. 

Why,  the  duchess  arrives  to-day,  we  know, 
And  her  daughter  too  — 


378  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

SERGEANT. 

Tush  !  that's  mere  show 
Tis  the  troops  collected  from  other  lands 
Who  here  at  Pilsen  have  joined  our  bands  — 
We  must  do  the  best  we  can  t'  allure  'em, 
With  plentiful  rations,  and  thus  secure  'em, 
Where  such  abundant  fare  they  find, 
A  closer  league  with  us  to  bind. 

TRUMPETER. 

Yes  !  —  there's  something  in  the  wind. 

SERGEANT. 

The  generals  and  commanders  too  — 

TRUMPETER. 

A  rather  ominous  sight,  'tis  true. 

SERGEANT. 

Who're  met  together  so  thickly  here  — 

TRUMPETER. 

Have  plenty  of  work  on  their  hands,  that's  clear. 

SERGEANT. 

The  whispering  and  sending  to  and  fro  — 

TRUMPETER. 

Ay!  Ay! 

SERGEANT. 

The  big-wig  from  Vienna,  I  trow, 
Who  since  yesterday's  seen  to  prowl  about 
In  his  golden  chain  of  office  there  — 
Something's  at  the  bottom  of  this,  I'll  swear 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  379 


TKUMPETER. 


A  bloodhound  is  he  beyond  a  doubt, 
By  whom  the  duke's  to  be  hunted  out. 


SEEGEANT. 


Mark  ye  well,  man  !  —  they  doubt  us  now, 
And  they  fear  the  duke's  mysterious  brow ; 
He  hath  clomb  too  high  for  them,  and  fain 
Would  they  beat  him  down  from  his  perch  again. 

TRUMPETER. 

But  we  will  hold  him  still  on  high  — 
That  all  would  think  as  you  and  I ! 

SERGEANT. 

Our  regiment,  and  the  other  four 

Which  Terzky  leads  —  the  bravest  corps 

Throughout  the  camp,  are  the  general's  own, 

And  have  been  trained  to  the  trade  by  himself  alone. 

The  officers  hold  their  command  of  him, 

And  are  all  his  own,  or  for  life  or  limb. 


Scene  III. 

Enter  Croat  with  a  necklace.     Sharpshooter  following 

him.     TJie  above. 

SHARPSHOOTER. 

Croat,  where  stole  you  that  necklace,  say  ? 
Get  rid  of  it,  man  —  for  thee  'tis  unmeet : 
Come,  take  these  pistols  in  change,  I  pray. 

CROAT. 

Nay,  nay,  Master  Shooter,  you're  trying  to  cheat. 


380  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

SHARPSHOOTER. 

Then  I'll  give  you  this  fine  blue  cap  as  well, 
A  lottery  prize  which  just  I've  won  : 
Look  at  the  cut  of  it  —  quite  the  swell ! 

CROAT  (twirling  the  necklace  in  the  sun). 

But  this  is  of  pearls  and  of  garnets  bright, 
See,  how  it  plays  in  the  sunny  light ! 

sharpshooter  (taking  the  necklace). 

Well,  I'll  give  you  to  boot,  my  own  canteen  — 
I'm  in  love  with  this  bauble's  beautiful  sheen. 

[Looks  at  it. 

TRUMPETER. 

See,  now  !  —  how  cleanly  the  Croat  is  done  : 
Snacks !  Master  Shooter,  and  mum's  the  word. 

CROAT  (having  put  on  the  cap). 
I  think  your  cap  is  a  smartish  one. 

sharpshooter  (winking  to  the  Trumpeter). 
Tis  a  regular  swop,  as  these  gents  have  heard. 


Scene  IV. 
The  above.     An  Artilleryman. 

artilleryman  (to  the  Sergeant). 

How  is  this,  I  pray,  brother  carabineer  ? 

Shall  we  longer  stay  here,  our  fingers  warming, 

While  the  foe  in  the  field  around  is  swarming  ? 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  381 


SERGEANT. 


Art  thou,  indeed,  in  such  hasty  fret  ? 

Why,  the  roads,  as  I  think,  are  scarce  passable  yet. 

ARTILLERYMAN. 

For  me  they  are  not  —  I'm  snug  enough  here  — 
But  a  courier's  come,  our  wits  to  waken 
With  the  precious  news  that  Eatisbon's  taken. 

TRUMPETER. 

Ha !  then  we  soon  shall  have  work  in  hand. 

SERGEANT. 

Indeed  !  to  protect  the  Bavarian's  land, 
Who  hates  the  duke,  as  we  understand, 
We  won't  put  ourselves  in  a  violent  sweat. 

ARTILLERYMAN. 

Heyday  !  —  you'll  find  you're  a  wiseacre  yet. 


Scene  V. 

The  above.      Two   Yagers.      Afterward  Sutler-woman, 
Soldier-boy,  Schoolmaster,  Servant-girl. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

See!  See! 
Here  meet  we  a  jovial  company ! 

TRUMPETER. 

Who  can  these  greencoats  be,  I  wonder, 
That  strut  so  gay  and  sprucely  yonder ! 


382  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

SERGEANT. 

They're  the  Yagers  of  Hoik  —  and  the  lace  they  wear, 
I'll  be  sworn,  was  ne'er  purchased  at  Leipzig  fair. 

sutler  -  woman  (bringing  wine). 
Welcome,  good  sirs ! 

FIRST    YAGER. 

Zounds,  how  now ! 
Gustel  of  Blasewitz  here,  I  vow ! 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

The  same  in  sooth  —  and  you,  I  know, 

Are  the  lanky  Peter  of  Itzeho : 

Who  at  Gliickstadt  once,  in  revelling  night, 

With  the  wags  of  our  regiment,  put  to  flight 

All  his  father's  shiners  —  then  crowned  the  fun  — 

FIRST   YAGER. 

By  changing  his  pen  for  a  rifle-gun. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

We're  old  acquaintance,  then,  'tis  clear. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

And  to  think  we  should  meet  in  Bohemia  here ! 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Oh,  here  to-day  —  to-morrow  yonder  — 
As  the  rude  war-broom,  in  restless  trace, 
Scatters  and  sweeps  us  from  place  to  place. 
Meanwhile  I've  been  doomed  far  round  to  wander. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  383 

FIRST   YAGER. 

So  one  would  think,  by  the  look  of  your  face. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Up  the  country  I've  rambled  to  Temsewar, 
Whither  I  went  with  the  baggage-car, 
When  Mansfeld  before  us  we  chased  away ; 
With  the  duke  near  Stralsund  next  we  lay, 
Where  trade  went  all  to  pot,  I  may  say. 
I  jogged  with  the  succours  to  Mantua ; 
And  back  again  came,  under  Feria : 
Then,  joining  a  Spanish  regiment, 
I  took  a  short  cut  across  to  Ghent ; 
And  now  to  Bohemia  I'm  come  to  get 
Old  scores  paid  off,  that  are  standing  yet, 
If  a  helping  hand  by  the  duke  be  lent  — 
And  yonder  you  see  my  sutler's  tent. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Well,  all  things  seem  in  a  flourishing  way, 

But  what  have  you  done  with  the  Scotchman,  say, 

Who  once  in  the  camp  was  your  constant  flame  ? 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

A  villain,  who  tricked  me  clean,  that  same. 
He  bolted,  and  took  to  himself  whate'er 
I'd  managed  to  scrape  together,  or  spare, 
Leaving  me  naught  but  the  urchin  there. 

soldier  -  boy  {springing  forward). 
Mother,  is  it  my  papa  you  name  ? 

FIRST    YAGER. 

Well,  the  emperor  now  must  father  this  elf, 
For  the  army  must  ever  recruit  itself. 


384  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

SCHOOLMASTER. 

Forth  to  the  school,  ye  rogue  —  d'ye  hear  ? 

FIRST   YAGER. 

He,  too,  of  a  narrow  room  has  fear. 

servant  girl  {entering). 
Aunt,  they'll  be  off. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

I  come  apace. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

What  gypsy  is  that  with  the  roguish  face  ? 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

My  sister's  child  from  the  south,  is  she. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Ay,  ay,  a  sweet  little  niece  —  I  see. 

second  yager  (holding  the  girl). 
Softly,  my  pretty  one !  stay  with  me. 

GIRL. 

The  customers  wait,  sir,  and  I  must  go. 

[Disengages  herself,  and  exit. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

That  maiden's  a  dainty  morsel,  I  trow ! 
And  her  aunt  —  by  heaven  !  I  mind  me  well, 
When  the  best  of  the  regiment  loved  her  so, 
To  blows  for  her  beautiful  face  they  fell. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  385 

What  different  folks  one's  doomed  to  know  ! 
How  time  glows  off  with  a  ceaseless  flow  ! 
And  what  sights  as  yet  we  may  live  to  see  ! 

[To  the  Sergeant  and  Trumpeier. 
Your  health,  good  sirs,  may  we  be  free, 
A  seat  beside  you  here  to  take  ? 


Scene  VI. 
The  Yagers,  Sergeant,  and  Trumpeter. 

SEEGEANT. 

We  thank  ye  —  and  room  will  gladly  make. 
To  Bohemia  welcome. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Snug  enough  here ! 
In  the  land  of  the  foe  our  quarters  were  queer. 

TRUMPETER. 

You  haven't  the  look  on't  —  you're  spruce  to  view. 

SERGEANT. 

Ay,  faith,  on  the  Saal,  and  in  Meissen,  too, 
Your  praises  are  heard  from  the  lips  of  few. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

Tush,  man  !  why,  what  the  plague  d'ye  mean  ? 
The  Croat  had  swept  the  fields  so  clean, 
There  was  little  or  nothing  for  us  to  glean. 

TRUMPETER. 

Yet  your  pointed  collar  is  clean  and  sightly, 
And,  then,  your  hose  that  sit  so  tightly ! 


386  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

Your  linen  so  fine,  with  the  hat  and  feather, 
Make  a  show  of  smartness  altogether ! 

[To  Sergeant. 
That  fortune  should  upon  younkers  shine  — 
While  nothing  in  your  way  conies,  or  mine. 

SERGEANT. 

But  then  we're  the  Friedlander's  regiment 
And,  thus,  may  honour  and  homage  claim. 

FIRST    YAGER. 

For  us,  now,  that's  no  great  compliment, 
We,  also,  bear  the  Friedlander's  name. 

SERGEANT. 

True  —  you  form  part  of  the  general  mass. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

And  you,  I  suppose,  are  a  separate  class ! 

The  difference  lies  in  the  coats  we  wear, 

And  I  have  no  wish  to  change  with  you  there ! 

SERGEANT. 

Sir  Yager,  I  can't  but  with  pity  melt, 

When  I  think  how  much  among  boors  you've  dwelt. 

The  clever  knack  and  the  proper  tone 

Are  caught  by  the  general's  side  alone. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Then  the  lesson  is  wofully  thrown  away,  — 
How  he  hawks  and  spits,  indeed,  I  may  say 
You've  copied  and  caught  in  the  cleverest  way ; 
But  his  spirit,  his  genius  —  oh,  these,  I  ween, 
On  your  guard  parade  are  but  seldom  seen. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  387 

SECOND    YAGEK. 

Why,  zounds !  ask  for  us  wherever  you  will, 

Friedland's  wild  hunt  is  our  title  still ! 

Never  shaming  the  name,  all  undaunted  we  go 

Alike  through  the  field  of  a  friend  or  a  foe ; 

Through  the  rising  stalk,  or  the  yellow  corn, 

Well  know  they  the  blast  of  Hoik's  Yager  horn. 

In  the  flash  of  an  eye,  we  are  far  or  near, 

Swift  as  the  deluge,  or  there  or  here  — 

As  at  midnight  dark,  when  the  flames  outbreak 

In  the  silent  dwelling  where  none  awake ; 

Vain  is  the  hope  in  weapons  or  flight, 

Nor  order  nor  discipline  thwart  its  might. 

Then  struggles  the  maid  in  our  sinewy  arms, 

But  war  hath  no  pity,  and  scorns  alarms. 

Go,  ask  —  I  speak  not  with  boastful  tongue  — 

In  Bayreuth,  Westphalia,  Voigtland,  where'er 

Our  troops  have  traversed  —  go,  ask  them  there  — 

Children  and  children's  children  long, 

When  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  years  are  o'er, 

Of  Hoik  will  tell  and  his  Yager  corps. 

SERGEANT. 

Way,  hark !     Must  a  soldier  then  be  made 
By  driving  this  riotous,  roaring  trade  ! 
'Tis  drilling  that  makes  him,  skill  and  sense  — 
Perception  —  thought  —  intelligence. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

'Tis  liberty  makes  him  !     Here's  a  fuss  ! 

That  I  should  such  twaddle  as  this  discuss. 

Was  it  for  this  that  I  left  the  school  ? 

That  the  scribbling  desk,  and  the  slavish  rule, 

And  the  narrow  walls,  that  our  spirits  cramp, 

Should  be  met  with  again  in  the  midst  of  the  camp  ? 

No  !  Idle  and  heedless,  I'll  take  my  way, 


388  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

Hunting  for  novelty  every  day  ; 
Trust  to  the  moment  with  dauntless  mind, 
And  give  not  a  glance  or  before  or  behind. 
For  this  to  the  emperor  I  sold  my  hide, 
That  no  other  care  I  might  have  to  bide. 
Through  the  foe's  fierce  firing  bid  me  ride, 
Through  fathomless  Ehine,  in  his  roaring  flow, 
Where  ev'ry  third  man  to  the  devil  may  go, 
At  no  bar  will  you  find  me  boggling  there ; 
But,  farther  than  this,  'tis  my  special  prayer, 
That  I  may  not  be  bothered  with  aught  like  care. 

SERGEANT. 

If  this  be  your  wish,  you  needn't  lack  it, 
'Tis  granted  to  all  with  the  soldier's  jacket. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

What  a  fuss  and  a  bother,  forsooth,  was  made 
By  that  man-tormentor,  Gustavus,  the  Swede, 
Whose  camp  was  a  church,  where  prayers  were  said 
At  morning  reveille  and  evening  tattoo ; 
And,  whenever  it  chanced  that  we  frisky  grew, 
A  sermon  himself  from  the  saddle  he'd  read. 

SERGEANT. 

Ay,  that  was  a  man  with  the  fear  of  God. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Girls  he  detested ;  and  what's  rather  odd, 

If  caught  with  a  wench  you  in  wedlock  were  tacked,  - 

I  could  stand  it  no  longer,  so  off  I  packed. 

SERGEANT. 

Their  discipline  now  has  a  trifle  slacked. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  389 

FIRST    YAGER. 

Well,  next  to  the  League  I  rode  over ;  their  men 
Were  mustering  in  haste  against  Magdeburg  then. 
Ha !  that  was  another  guess  sort  of  a  thing ! 
In  frolic  and  fun  we'd  a  glorious  swing; 
With  gaming,  and  drinking,  and  girls  at  call, 
V  faith,  sirs,  our  sport  was  by  no  means  small. 
For  Tilly  knew  how  to  command,  that's  plain ; 
He  held  himself  in  but  gave  us  the  rein ; 
And,  long  as  he  hadn't  the  bother  of  paying, 
"  Live  and  let  live  ! "  was  the  general's  saying. 
But  fortune  soon  gave  him  the  slip  ;  and  ne'er 
Since  the  day  of  that  villainous  Leipzig  affair 
Would  aught  go  aright.     'Twas  of  little  avail 
That  we  tried,  for  our  plans  were  sure  to  fail. 
If  now  we  drew  nigh  and  rapped  at  the  door, 
No  greeting  awaited,  'twas  opened  no  more ; 
From  place  to  place  we  went  sneaking  about, 
And  found  that  their  stock  of  respect  was  out ; 
Then  touched  I  the  Saxon  bounty,  and  thought 
Their  service  with  fortune  must  needs  be  fraught. 

SERGEANT. 

You  joined  them  then  just  in  the  nick  to  share 
Bohemia's  plunder  ? 

FIRST    YAGER. 

I'd  small  luck  there. 
Strict  discipline  sternly  ruled  the  day, 
Nor  dared  we  a  foeman's  force  display ; 
They  set  us  to  guard  the  imperial  forts, 
And  plagued  us  all  with  the  farce  of  the  courts. 
War  they  waged  as  a  jest  'twere  thought  — 
And  but  half  a  heart  to  the  business  brought, 
They  would  break  with  none ;  and  thus  'twas  plain 
Small  honour  among  them  could  a  soldier  gain. 


390  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

So  heartily  sick  in  the  end  grew  I 
That  my  mind  was  the  desk  again  to  try ; 
When  suddenly,  rattling  near  and  far, 
The  Friedlander's  drum  was  heard  to  war. 


SEEGEANT. 

And  how  long  here  may  you  mean  to  stay  ? 

FIRST    YAGER. 

You  jest,  man.     So  long  as  he  bears  the  sway, 
By  my  soul !  not  a  thought  of  change  have  I ; 
"Where  better  than  here  could  the  soldier  lie  ? 
Here  the  true  fashion  of  war  is  found, 
And  the  cut  of  power's  on  all  things  round ; 
While  the  spirit  whereby  the  movement's  given 
Mightily  stirs,  like  the  winds  of  heaven, 
The  meanest  trooper  in  all  the  throng, 
With  a  hearty  step  shall  I  tramp  along, 
On  a  burgher's  neck  as  undaunted  tread 
As  our  general  does  on  the  prince's  head. 
As  'twas  in  the  times  of  old  'tis  now, 
The  sword  is  the  sceptre,  and  all  must  bow. 
One  crime  alone  can  I  understand, 
And  that's  to  oppose  the  word  of  command. 
What's  not  forbidden  to  do  make  bold, 
And  none  will  ask  you  what  creed  you  hold. 
Of  just  two  things  in  this  world  I  wot, 
What  belongs  to  the  army  and  what  does  not, 
To  the  banner  alone  is  my  service  brought. 


SERGEANT. 

Thus,  Yager,  I  like  thee  —  thou  speakest,  I  vow, 
With  the  tone  of  a  Friedland  trooper  now. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  391 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Tis  not  as  an  office  he  holds  command, 
Or  a  power  received  from  the  emperor's  hand ; 
For  the  emperor's  service  what  should  he  care, 
What  better  for  him  does  the  emperor  fare  ? 
With  the  mighty  power  he  wields  at  will, 
Has  ever  he  sheltered  the  land  from  ill  ? 
No ;  a  soldier-kingdom  he  seeks  to  raise, 
And  for  this  would  set  the  world  in  a  blaze, 
Daring  to  risk  and  to  compass  all  — 

TRUMPETER. 

Hush  —  who  shall  such  words  as  these  let  fall  ? 

FIRST    YAGER. 

Whatever  I  think  may  be  said  by  me, 
For  the  general  tells  us  the  word  is  free. 

SERGEANT. 

True  —  that  he  said  so  I  fully  agree, 
I  was  standing  by.     "  The  word  is  free  — 
The  deed  is  dumb  —  obedience  blind  ! " 
His  very  words  I  can  call  to  mind. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

I  know  not  if  these  were  his  words  or  no, 
But  he  said  the  thing,  and  'tis  even  so. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

Victory  ne'er  will  his  flag  forsake, 
Though  she's  apt  from  others  a  turn  to  take : 
Old  Tilly  outlived  his  fame's  decline, 
But  under  the  banner  of  Wallen  stein, 
There  am  I  certain  that  victory's  mine  ! 


392  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

Fortune  is  spell-bound  to  him,  and  must  yield ; 
Whoe'er  under  Friedland  shall  take  the  field 
Is  sure  of  a  supernatural  shield : 
For,  as  all  the  world  is  aware  full  well, 
The  duke  has  a  devil  in  hire  from  hell. 

SEKGEANT. 

In  truth  that  he's  charmed  is  past  a  doubt, 
For  we  know  how,  at  Liitzen's  bloody  affair, 
Where  firing  was  thickest  he  still  was  there, 
As  coolly  as  might  be,  sirs,  riding  about. 
The  hat  on  his  head  was  shot  thro'  and  thro', 
In  coat  and  boots  the  bullets  that  flew 
Left  traces  full  clear  to  all  men's  view ; 
But  none  got  so  far  as  to  scratch  off  his  skin, 
For  the  ointment  of  hell  was  too  well  rubbed  in. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

What  wonders  so  strange  can  you  all  see  there  ? 
An  elk-skin  jacket  he  happens  to  wear, 
And  through  it  the  bullets  can  make  no  way. 

SERGEANT. 

'Tis  an  ointment  of  witches'  herbs,  I  say, 
Kneaded  and  cooked  by  unholy  spell. 

TRUMPETER. 

No  doubt  'tis  the  work  of  the  powers  of  hell. 

SERGEANT. 

That  he  reads  in  the  stars  we  also  hear, 
Where  the  future  he  sees  —  distant  or  near  — 
But  I  know  better  the  truth  of  the  case : 
A  little  gray  man,  at  the  dead  of  night, 
Through  bolted  doors  to  him  will  pace  — 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  393 

The  sentinels  oft  have  hailed  the  sight, 
And  something  great  was  sure  to  be  nigh, 
When  this  little  graycoat  had  glided  by. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Ay,  ay,  he's  sold  himself  to  the  devil, 
Wherefore,  my  lads,  let's  feast  and  revel. 

Scene   VII. 

T)ie  above.     Becruit,  Citizen,  Dragoon. 

The  Becruit  advances  from  the  tent,  wearing  a  tin  cap 
on  his  head,  and  carrying  a  wine-Jlask. 

RECRUIT. 

To  father  and  uncle  pray  make  my  bow, 
And  bid  'em  good-bye  —  I'm  a  soldier  now. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

See,  yonder  they're  bringing  us  something  new. 

CITIZEN. 

Oh,  Franz,  remember,  this  day  you'll  rue. 

RECRUIT  (sings). 

The  drum  and  the  fife, 

War's  rattling  throng, 
And  a  wandering  life 

The  world  along ! 
Swift  steed  —  and  a  hand 
To  curb  and  command  — 
With  a  blade  by  the  side, 
We're  off  far  and  wide. 
As  jolly  and  free, 


394  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

As  the  finch  in  its  glee, 
On  thicket  or  tree, 
Under  heaven's  wide  hollow  — 
Hurrah !  for  the  Friedlander's  banner  I'll  follow ! 

SECOND    YAGER. 

Foregad !  a  jolly  companion,  though. 

\Thcy  salute  him. 

CITIZEN. 

He  comes  of  a  good  kin ;  now  pray  let  him  go. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

And  we  weren't  found  in  the  streets  you  must  know. 

CITIZEN. 

I  tell  you  his  wealth  is  a  plentiful  stock ; 

Just  feel  the  fine  stuff  that  he  wears  for  a  frock. 

TRUMPETER. 

The  emperor's  coat  is  the  best  he  can  wear. 

CITIZEN. 

To  a  cap  manufactory  he  is  the  heir. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

The  will  of  a  man  is  his  fortune  alone. 

CITIZEN. 

His  grandmother's  shop  will  soon  be  his  own. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Pish  !  traffic  in  matches  !  who  would  do't  ? 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  395 

CITIZEN. 

A  wine-shop  his  grandfather  leaves,  to  boot, 
A  cellar  with  twenty  casks  of  wine. 

TRUMPETER. 

These  with  his  comrades  he'll  surely  share. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

Hark  ye,  lad  —  be  a  camp-brother  of  mine. 

CITIZEN. 

A  bride  he  leaves  sitting,  in  tears,  apart. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Good  —  that  now's  a  proof  of  an  iron  heart. 

CITIZEN. 

His  grandmother's  sure  to  die  with  sorrow. 

SECOND   YAGER. 

The  better  —  for  then  he'll  inherit  to-morrow. 

sergeant  {advances  gravely,  and  lays  his  hand  on  the 
Recruit's  tin  cap). 

The  matter  no  doubt  you  have  duly  weighed, 
And  here  a  new  man  of  yourself  have  made ; 
With  hanger  and  helm,  sir,  you  now  belong 
To  a  nobler  and  more  distinguished  throng. 
Thus,  a  loftier  spirit  'twere  well  to  uphold  — 

first  yager. 
And,  especially,  never  be  sparing  of  gold. 


396  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

SEKGEANT. 

In  Fortune's  ship,  with  an  onward  gale, 
My  friend,  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  sail. 
The  earth-ball  is  open  before  you  —  yet  there 
Naught's  to  be  gained,  but  by  those  who  dare. 
Stupid  and  sluggish  your  citizen's  found, 
Like  a  dyer's  dull  jade,  in  his  ceaseless  round, 
While  the  soldier  can  be  whatever  he  will, 
For  war  o'er  the  earth  is  the  watchword  still. 
Just  look  now  at  me,  and  the  coat  I  wear, 
You  see  that  the  emperor's  baton  I  bear  — 
And  all  good  government,  over  the  earth, 
You  must  know  from  the  baton  alone  has  birth ; 
For  the  sceptre  that's  swayed  by  the  kingly  hand 
Is  naught  but  a  baton,  we  understand. 
And  he  who  has  corporal's  rank  obtained, 
Stands  on  the  ladder  where  all's  to  be  gained, 
And  you,  like  another,  may  mount  to  that  height 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Provided  you  can  but  read  and  write. 

SERGEANT. 

Now,  hark  to  an  instance  of  this  from  me, 
And  one  which  I've  lived  myself  to  see : 
There's  Butler,  the  chief  of  dragoons,  why  he, 
Whose  rank  was  not  higher  a  whit  than  mine, 
Some  thirty  years  since,  at  Cologne  on  Rhine, 
Is  a  major-general  now  —  because 
He  put  himself  forward  and  gained  applause ; 
Filling  the  world  with  his  martial  fame, 
While  slept  my  merits  without  a  name. 
And  even  the  Friedlander's  self  —  I've  heard  — 
Our  general  and  all-commanding  lord, 
Who  now  can  do  what  he  will  at  a  word, 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  397 

Had  at  first  but  a  private  squire's  degree ; 
In  the  goddess  of  war  yet  trusting  free, 
He  reared  the  greatness  which  now  you  see, 
And,  after  the  emperor,  next  is  he. 
Who  knows  what  more  he  may  mean  or  get  ? 
{Slyly.)     For  all-day's  evening  isn't  come  yet. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

He  was  little  at  first,  though  now  so  great  — 

For  at  Altorf,  in  student's  gown  he  played, 

By  your  leave,  the  part  of  a  roaring  blade, 

And  rattled  away  at  a  queerish  rate. 

His  fag  he  had  well-nigh  killed  by  a  blow, 

And  their  Nur'mberg  worships  swore  he  should  go 

To  jail  for  his  pains  —  if  he  liked  it  or  no. 

'Twas  a  new-built  nest  to  be  christened  by  him 

Who   first  should   be  lodged.      Well,  what  was   his 

whim? 
Why,  he  sent  his  dog  forward  to  lead  the  way, 
And  they  call  the  jail  from  the  dog  to  this  day. 
That  was  the  game  a  brave  fellow  should  play, 
And  of  all  the  great  deeds  of  the  general,  none 
E'er  tickled  my  fancy,  like  this  one. 

[During  this  speech  the  Second   Yager  has  begun 
toying  with  the  girl  who  has  been  in  waiting. 

dragoon  (stepping  between  theni). 
Comrade  —  give  over  this  sport,  I  pray. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

Why,  who  the  devil  shall  say  me  nay  ! 

DRAGOON. 

I've  only  to  tell  you  the  girl's  my  own. 


398  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

FIKST    YAGER. 

Such  a  morsel  as  this  for  himself  alone !  — 
Dragoon,  why  say,  art  thou  crazy  grown  ? 

SECOND    YAGEK. 

In  the  camp  to  be  keeping  a  wench  for  one ! 
No !  the  light  of  a  pretty  girl's  face  must  fall, 
Like  the  beams  of  the  sun,  to  gladden  us  all. 

[Kisses  her. 
DRAGOON  (tears  her  away). 

I  tell  you  again,  that  it  sha'n't  be  done. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

The  pipers  are  coming,  lads  !  now  for  fun  ! 

second  yager  (to  Dragoon). 
I  sha'n't  be  far  off,  should  you  look  for  me. 

SERGEANT. 

Peace,  my  good  fellows  !  —  a  kiss  goes  free. 


Scene  VIII. 

Enter  Miners,  and  play  a  waltz  —  at  first  slowly,  and 
afterward  quicker.  The  First  Yager  dances  with 
the  girl,  the  Sutler-woman  with  the  Recruit.  The 
girl  springs  away,  and  the  Yager,  pursuing  her, 
seizes  hold  of  a  Capuchin  Friar  just  entering. 

CAPUCHIN. 

Hurrah  !  halloo  !  tol,  lol,  de  rol,  le  ! 

The  fun's  at  its  height !  I'll  not  be  away  ! 

Is't  an  army  of  Christians  that  join  in  such  works  ? 


wallenstein's  camp  399 

Or  are  we  all  turned  Anabaptists  and  Turks  ? 

Is  the  Sabbath  a  day  for  this  sport  in  the  land, 

As  though  the  great  God  had  the  gout  in  his  hand, 

And  thus  couldn't  smite  in  the  midst  of  your  band  ? 

Say,  is  this  a  time  for  your  revelling  shouts, 

For  your  banquetings,  feasts,  and  holiday  bouts  ? 

Quid  hie  statis  otiosi  ?  declare 

Why,  folding  your  arms,  stand  ye  lazily  there  ? 

While  the  furies  of  war  on  the  Danube  now  fare, 

And  Bavaria's  bulwark  is  lying  full  low, 

And  Katisbon's  fast  in  the  clutch  of  the  foe. 

Yet,  the  army  lies  here  in  Bohemia  still, 

And  caring  for  naught,  so  their  paunches  they  fill 

Bottles  far  rather  than  battles  you'll  get, 

And   your  bills  than  your  broadswords  more  readily 

wet; 
With  the  wenches,  I  ween,  is  your  dearest  concern, 
And  you'd  rather  roast  oxen  than  Oxenstiern. 
In  sackcloth  and  ashes  while  Christendom's  grieving, 
No  thought  has  the  soldier  his  guzzle  of  leaving. 
Tis  a  time  of  misery,  groans,  and  tears ! 
Portentous  the  face  of  the  heavens  appears ! 
And  forth  from  the  clouds  behold  blood-red, 
The  Lord's  war  mantle  is  downward  spread  — 
While  the  comet  is  thrust  as  a  threatening  rod, 
From  the  window  of  heaven  by  the  hand  of  God. 
The  world  is  but  one  vast  house  of  woe, 
The  ark  of  the  church  stems  a  bloody  flow. 
The  Holy  Empire  —  God  help  the  same  !  — 
Has  wretchedly  sunk  to  a  hollow  name. 
The  Rhine's  gay  stream  has  a  gory  gleam, 
The  cloister's  nests  are  robbed  by  roysters ; 
The  church-lands  now  are  changed  to  lurch-lands ; 
Abbacies,  and  all  other  holy  foundations 
Now  are  but  robber-sees  —  rogues'  habitations. 
And  thus  is  each  once-blest  German  state, 
Deep  sunk  in  the  gloom  of  the  desolate ! 


400  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

Whence  comes  all  this  ?     Oh,  that  will  I  tell  — 

It  comes  of  your  doings,  of  sin,  and  of  hell ! 

Of  the  horrible,  heathenish  lives  ye  lead, 

Soldiers  and  officers,  all  of  a  breed. 

For  sin  is  the  magnet,  on  every  hand, 

That  draws  your  steel  throughout  the  land ! 

As  the  onion  causes  the  tear  to  flow, 

So  vice  must  ever  be  followed  by  woe  — 

The  W  duly  succeeds  the  V, 

This  is  the  order  of  A,  B,  C. 

Ubi  erit  victorice  spes, 

Si  offenditur  Deus  ?  which  says, 

How,  pray  ye,  shall  victory  e'er  come  to  pass, 

If  thus  you  play  truant  from  sermon  and  mass, 

And  do  nothing  but  lazily  loll  o'er  the  glass  ? 

The  woman,  we're  told  in  the  Testament, 

Found  the  penny  in  search  whereof  she  went. 

Saul  met  with  his  father's  asses  again, 

And  Joseph  his  precious  fraternal  train, 

But  he,  who  'mong  soldiers  shall  hope  to  see 

God's  fear,  or  shame,  or  discipline  —  he 

From  his  toil,  beyond  doubt,  will  baffled  return, 

Though  a  hundred  lamps  in  the  search  he  burn. 

To  the  wilderness  preacher,  th'  Evangelist  says, 

The  soldiers,  too,  thronged  to  repent  of  their  ways, 

And  had  themselves  christened  in  former  days. 

Quid  faciemus  nos  ?  they  said : 

Toward  Abraham's  bosom  what  path  must  we  tread  ? 

Et  ait  Mis,  and,  said  he, 

Neminem  concutiatis ; 

From  bother  and  wrongs  leave  your  neighbours  free. 

Neque  calumniam  faciatis ; 

And  deal  nor  in  slander  nor  lies,  d'ye  see  ? 

Contenti  estote  —  content  ye,  pray, 

Stipendiis  vestris  —  with  your  pay  — 

And  curse  for  ever  each  evil  way. 

There  is  a  command  —  thou  shalt  not  utter 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  401 

The  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain ; 

But  where  is  it  men  most  blasphemies  mutter  ? 

Why,   here,   in    Duke    Friedland's    headquarters,   'tis 

plain 
If  for  every  thunder  and  every  blast, 
Which  blazing  ye  from  your  tongue-points  cast, 
The  bells  were  but  rung,  in  the  country  round, 
Not  a  bellman,  I  ween,  would  there  soon  be  found ; 
And  if  for  each  and  every  unholy  prayer 
Which  to  vent  from  your  jabbering  jaws  you  dare, 
From   your    noddles  were   plucked    but  the  smallest 

hair, 
Ev'ry   crop   would   be   smoothed    ere   the   sun    went 

down, 
Though  at  morn  'twere  as  bushy  as  Absalom's  crown. 
Now,  Joshua,  methinks,  was  a  soldier  as  well  — 
By  the  arm  of  King  David  the  Philistine  fell ; 
But  where  do  we  find  it  written,  I  pray, 
That  they  ever  blasphemed  in  this  villainous  way  ? 
One  would  think  ye  need  stretch  your  jaws  no  more, 
To  cry  "  God  help  us  !  "  than  "  Zounds  ! "  to  roar. 
But,  by  the  liquor  that's  poured  in  the  cask,  we  know 
With  what  it  will  bubble  and  overflow. 
Again,  it  is  written  —  thou  shalt  not  steal, 
And  this  you  follow,  i'  faith !  to  the  letter, 
For  open-faced  robbery  suits  ye  better. 
The  gripe  of  your  vulture  claws  you  fix 
On  all  —  and  your  wiles  and  rascally  tricks 
Make  the  gold  unhid  in  our  coffers  now, 
And  the  calf  unsafe  while  yet  in  the  cow  — 
Ye  take  both  the  egg  and  the  hen,  I  vow. 
Contenti  estote  —  the  preacher  said  ; 
Which  means  —  be  content  with  your  army  bread. 
But  how  should  the  slaves  not  from  duty  swerve  ? 
The  mischief  begins  with  the  lord  they  serve, 
Just  like  the  members  so  is  the  head. 
I  should  like  to  know  who  can  tell  me  his  creed. 


4o2  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 


FIRST    YAGER. 


Sir  priest,  'gainst  ourselves  rail  on  as  you  will  — 
Of  the  general  we  warn  you  to  breathe  no  ilL 

CAPUCHIN. 

Ne  custodias  gregem  meam  ! 

An  Ahab  is  he,  and  a  Jerobeam, 

Who  the  people  from  faith's  unerring  way, 

To  the  worship  of  idols  would  turn  astray. 

TRUMPETER    and   RECRUIT. 

Let  us  not  hear  that  again,  we  pray. 

CAPUCHIN. 

Such  a  Bramarbas,  whose  iron  tooth 

Would  seize  all  the  strongholds  of  earth  forsooth ! 

Did  he  not  boast,  with  ungodly  tongue, 

That  Stralsund  must  needs  to  his  grasp  be  wrung, 

Though  to  heaven  itself  with  a  chain  'twere  strung  ? 

TRUMPETER. 

Will  none  put  a  stop  to  his  slanderous  bawl  ? 

CAPUCHIN. 

A  wizard  he  is  !  —  and  a  sorcerer  Saul !  — 
Holofernes  !  —  a  Jehu  !  —  denying,  we  know, 
Like  St.  Peter,  his  Master  and  Lord  below ; 
And  hence  must  he  quail  when  the  cock  doth  crow  - 

BOTH  YAGERS. 

Now,  parson,  prepare ;  for  thy  doom  is  nigh. 

CAPUCHIN. 

A  fox  more  cunning  than  Herod,  I  trow  — 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  403 

tkumpetek  and  both  yagers  (pressing  against  him). 
Silence,  again,  —  if  thou  wouldst  not  die  ! 

Croats  {interfering). 

Stick  to  it,  father ;  we'll  shield  you,  ne'er  fear ; 
The  close  of  your  preachment  now  let's  hear. 

CAPUCHIN  (still  louder). 

A  Nebuchadnezzar  in  towering  pride ! 

And  a  vile  and  heretic  sinner  beside ! 

He  calls  himself  rightly  the  stone  of  a  wall ; 

For,  faith  !  he's  a  stumbling-stone  to  us  all. 

And  ne'er  can  the  emperor  have  peace  indeed, 

Till  of  Friedland  himself  the  land  is  freed. 

[During  the  last  passage,  which  he  pronounces  in 
an  elevated  voice,  he  has  been  gradually  re- 
treating, the  Croats  keeping  the  other  soldiers 
off 

Scene  IX. 
The  above,  ivithout  the  Capuchin. 

first  yager  (to  the  Sergeant). 

But,  tell  us,  what  meant  he  about  chanticleer ; 
Whose  crowing  the  general  dares  not  hear  ? 
No  doubt  it  was  uttered  in  spite  and  scorn. 

SERGEANT. 

Listen  —  'tis  not  so  untrue  as  it  appears  ; 
For  Friedland  was  rather  mysteriously  born, 
And  is  'specially  troubled  with  ticklish  ears ; 
He  can  never  suffer  the  mew  of  a  cat ; 
And  when  the  cock  crows  he  starts  thereat. 


4<H  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

FIRST  YAGER. 

He's  one  and  the  same  with  the  lion  in  that. 

SERGEANT. 

Mouse-still  must  all  around  him  creep, 
Strict  watch  in  this  the  sentinels  keep, 
For  he  ponders  on  matters  most  grave  and  deep. 

[  Voices  in  the  tent.     A  tumult. 
Seize  the  rascal !  lay  on  !  lay  on  ! 

peasant's  voice. 
Help  !  —  mercy  !  —  help  ! 

OTHERS. 

Peace !  peace !  begone  ! 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Deuce  take  me,  but  yonder  the  swords  are  out ! 

SECOND   YAGER. 

Then  I  must  be  off,  and  see  what  'tis  about. 

[  Yagers  enter  the  tent. 

sutler  -  woman  (comes  forivard). 
A  scandalous  villain  !  —  a  scurvy  thief ! 

trumpeter. 
Good  hostess,  the  cause  of  this  clamorous  grief  ? 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

A  cut-purse !  a  scoundrel  !  the  villain  I  call. 
That  the  like  in  my  tent  should  ever  befall ! 
I'm  disgraced  and  undone  with  the  officers  all. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  4°5 

SERGEANT. 


Well,  coz,  what  is  it  ? 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Why,  what  should  it  be  ? 
But  a  peasant  they've  taken  just  now  with  me  — 
A  rogue  with  false  dice,  to  favour  his  play. 

TRUMPETER. 

See !  they're  bringing  the  boor  and  his  son  this  way. 

Scene   X. 
Soldiers,  dragging  in  the  Peasant,  bound. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

He  must  hang ! 

SHARPSHOOTERS   and  DRAGOONS. 

To  the  provost,  come  on  ! 

SERGEANT. 

Tis  the  latest  order  that  forth  has  gone. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

In  an  hour  I  hope  to  behold  him  swinging ! 

SERGEANT. 

Bad  work  bad  wages  will  needs  be  bringing. 

first  arquebusier  (to  the  others). 

This  comes  of  their  desperation.  We 
First  ruin  them  out  and  out,  d'ye  see ; 
Which  tempts  them  to  steal,  as  it  seems  to  me. 


406  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

TRUMPETER. 

How  now !  the  rascal's  cause  would  you  plead  ? 
The  cur !  the  devil  is  in  you  indeed  ! 

FIRST   ARQUEBUSIER. 

The  boor  is  a  man  — as  a  body  may  say. 

first  yager  (to  the  Trumpeter). 

Let  'em  go !  they're  of  Tiefenbach's  corps,  the  railers, 

A  glorious  train  of  glovers  and  tailors ! 

At  Brieg,  in  garrison,  long  they  lay  ; 

What  should  they  know  about  camps,  I  pray  ? 


Scene  XI. 

The  above.  Cuirassiers. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Peace !  what's  amiss  with  the  boor,  may  I  crave  ? 

FIRST    SHARPSHOOTER. 

He  has  cheated  at  play,  the  cozening  knave  ! 

FIRST    CUIRASSIER. 

But  say,  has  he  cheated  you,  man,  of  aught  ? 

FIRST   SHARPSHOOTER. 

Just  cleaned  me  out  —  and  not  left  me  a  groat. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

And  can  you,  who've  the  rank  of  a  Friedland  man, 
So  shamefully  cast  yourself  away, 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  4°7 

As  to  try  your  luck  with  the  boor  at  play  ? 
Let  him  run  off,  so  that  run  he  can. 

[The  Peasant  escapes,  the  others  throng  together. 

FIRST    AKQUEBUSIER. 

He  makes  short  work  —  is  of  resolute  mood  — 
And  that  with  such  fellows  as  these  is  good. 
Who  is  he  ?  not  of  Bohemia,  that's  clear. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

He's  a  Walloon  —  and  respect,  I  trow, 
Is  due  to  the  Pappenheim  cuirassier  ! 

first  dragoon  {joining*). 

Young  Piccolomini  leads  them  now, 

Whom  they  chose  as  colonel,  of  their  own  free  might, 

When  Pappenheim  fell  in  Liitzen's  fight. 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

Durst  they,  indeed,  presume  so  far  ? 

FIRST    DRAGOON. 

This  regiment  is  something  above  the  rest. 
It  has  ever  been  foremost  throughout  the  war, 
And  may  manage  its  laws,  as  it  pleases  best ; 
Besides,  'tis  by  Friedland  himself  caressed. 

first  cuirassier  {to  the  Second). 
Is't  so  in  truth,  man  ?     Who  averred  it  ? 

SECOND    CUIRASSIER. 

From  the  lips  of  the  colonel  himself  I  heard  it. 


408  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

FIRST    CUIRASSIER. 

The  devil !  we're  not  their  dogs,  I  ween ! 

FIRST   YAGER. 

How  now,  what's  wrong  ?  You're  swollen  with  spleen  ! 

SECOND   YAGER. 

Is  it  anything,  comrades,  may  us  concern  ? 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

'Tis  what  none  need  be  wondrous  glad  to  learn. 

[The  Soldiers  press  round  him. 
To  the  Netherlands  they  would  lend  us  now  — 
Cuirassiers,  Yagers,  and  Shooters  away, 
Eight  thousand  in  all  must  march,  they  say. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

What !  What !  again  the  old  wandering  way  — 
I  got  back  from  Flanders  but  yesterday ! 

second  cuirassier  (to  the  Dragoons'). 
You  of  Butler's  corps  must  tramp  with  the  rest. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

And  we,  the  Walloons,  must  doubtless  be  gone. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Why,  of  all  our  squadrons  these  are  the  best. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

To  march  where  that  Milanese  fellow  leads  on. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  409 

FIRST   YAGER. 

The  infant  ?  that's  queer  enough  in  its  way. 

SECOND   YAGER. 

The  priest  —  then,  egad !  there's  the  devil  to  pay. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Shall  we  then  leave  the  Friedlander's  train, 
Who  so  nobly  his  soldiers  doth  entertain  — 
And  drag  to  the  field  with  this  fellow  from  Spain ! 
A  niggard  whom  we  in  our  souls  disdain ! 
That'll  never  go  down  —  I'm  off,  I  swear. 

TRUMPETER. 

Why,  what  the  devil  should  we  do  there  ? 
We  sold  our  blood  to  the  emperor  —  ne'er 
For  this  Spanish  red  hat  a  drop  we'll  spare ! 

SECOND   YAGER. 

On  the  Friedlander's  word  and  credit  alone 
We  ranged  ourselves  in  the  trooper  line, 
And,  but  for  our  love  to  Wallenstein, 
Ferdinand  ne'er  had  our  service  known. 

FIRST   DRAGOON. 

Was  it  not  Friedland  that  formed  our  force  ? 
His  fortune  shall  still  be  the  star  of  our  course. 

SERGEANT. 

Silence,  good  comrades,  to  me  give  ear  — 
Talking  does  little  to  help  us  here. 
Much  farther  in  this  I  can  see  than  you  all, 
And  a  trap  has  been  laid  in  which  we're  to  fall. 


4io  WALLENSTEIN'S   CAMP 

FIRST   YAGER. 

List  to  the  order-book  !  hush  —  be  still ! 

SERGEANT. 

But  first,  Cousin  Gustel,  I  pray  thee  fill 

A  glass  of  Melneck,  as  my  stomach's  but  weak : 

When  I've  tossed  it  off,  my  mind  I'll  speak. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Take  it,  good  sergeant.     I  quake  for  fear  — 
Think  you  that  mischief  is  hidden  here  ? 

SERGEANT. 

Look  ye,  my  friends,  'tis  fit  and  clear 

That  each  should  consider  what's  most  near. 

But  as  the  general  says,  say  I, 

One  should  always  the  whole  of  a  case  descry. 

We  call  ourselves  all  the  Friedlander's  troops ; 

The  burgher,  on  whom  we're  billeted,  stoops 

Our  wants  to  supply,  and  cooks  our  soups. 

His  ox,  or  his  horse,  the  peasant  must  chain 

To  our  baggage-car,  and  may  grumble  in  vain. 

Just  let  a  lance-corp'ral,  with  seven  good  men, 

Tow'rd  a  village  from  far  but  come  within  ken, 

You're  sure  he'll  be  prince  of  the  place,  and  may 

Cut  what  capers  he  will,  with  unquestioned  sway. 

Why,  zounds !  lads,  they  heartily  hate  us  all  — 

And  would  rather  the  devil  should  give  them  a  call, 

Than  our  yellow  collars.     And  why  don't  they  fall 

On  us  fairly  at  once  and  get  rid  of  our  lumber  ? 

They're  more  than  our  match  in  point  of  number, 

And  carry  the  cudgel  as  we  do  the  sword. 

Why  can  we  laugh  them  to  scorn  ?     By  my  word, 

Because  we  make  up  here  a  terrible  horde. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  411 

FIRST   YAGER. 

Ay,  ay,  in  the  mass  lies  the  spell  of  our  might, 
And  the  Friedlander  judged  the  matter  aright, 
When,  some  eight  or  nine  years  ago,  he  brought 
The  emperor's  army  together.     They  thought 
Twelve  thousand  enough  for  the  general.     In  vain, 
Said  he,  such  a  force  I  can  never  maintain. 
Sixty  thousand  I'll  bring  ye  into  the  plain, 
And  they,  I'll  be  sworn,  won't  of  hunger  die. 
And  thus  were  we  Wallenstein's  men,  say  I. 

SERGEANT. 

For  example,  cut  one  of  my  fingers  off, 

This  little  one  here  from  my  right  hand  doff. 

Is  the  taking  my  finger  then  all  you've  done  ? 

No,  no,  to  the  devil  my  hand  is  gone ! 

'Tis  a  stump  —  no  more  —  and  use  has  none. 

The  eight  thousand  horse  they  wish  to  disband 

May  be  but  a  finger  of  our  army's  hand. 

But  when  they're  once  gone  may  we  understand 

We  are  but  one-fifth  the  less  ?     Oh,  no  — 

By  the  Lord,  the  whole  to  the  devil  will  go  ! 

All  terror,  respect,  and  awe  will  be  over, 

And  the  peasant  will  swell  his  crest  once  more  ; 

And  the  Board  of  Vienna  will  order  us  where 

Our  troops  must  be  quartered  and  how  we  must  fare, 

As  of  old  in  the  days  of  their  beggarly  care. 

Yes,  and  how  long  it  will  be  who  can  say 

Ere  the  general  himself  they  may  take  away  ? 

For  they  don't  much  like  him  at  court  I  learn. 

And  then  it's  all  up  with  the  whole  concern ! 

For  who,  to  our  pay,  will  be  left  to  aid  us, 

And  see  that  they  keep  the  promise  they  made  us  ? 

Who  has  the  energy  —  who  the  mind  — 

The  flashing  thought  —  and  the  fearless  hand  — 

Together  to  bring,  and  thus  fastly  bind, 


4i2  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

The  fragments  that  form  our  close-knit  band  ? 
For  example,  dragoon  —  just  answer  us  now, 
From  which  of  the  countries  of  earth  art  thou  ? 


DRAGOON. 

From  distant  Erin  came  I  here. 

sergeant  {to  the  two  Cuirassiers). 

You're  a  Walloon,  my  friend,  that's  clear, 
And  you,  an  Italian,  as  all  may  hear. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Who  I  may  be,  faith  !  I  never  could  say  ; 
In  my  infant  years  they  stole  me  away. 

SERGEANT. 

And  you,  from  what  far  land  may  you  be  ? 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

I  come  from  Buchau  —  on  the  Feder  Sea. 

SERGEANT. 

Neighbour,  and  you  ? 

SECOND    ARQUEBUSIER. 

I  am  a  Swiss. 

SERGEANT  (to  the  Second  Yager). 
And  Yager,  let's  hear  where  your  country  is  ? 

SECOND   YAGER. 

Up  above  Wismar  my  fathers  dwell. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  413 

sergeant  {pointing  to  the  Trumpeter). 

And  he's  from  Eger  —  and  I  as  well : 
And  now,  my  comrades,  I  ask  you  whether, 
Would  any  one  think,  when  looking  at  us, 
That  we,  from  the  North  and  South,  had  thus 
Been  hither  ward  drifted  and  blown  together  ? 
Do  we  not  seem  as  hewn  from  one  mass  ? 
Stand  we  not  close  against  the  foe 
As  though  we  were  glued  or  moulded  so  ? 
Like  mill- work  don't  we  move,  d'ye  think  ! 
'Mong  ourselves  in  the  nick,  at  a  word  or  wink. 
Who  has  thus  cast  us  here  all  as  one, 
Now  to  be  severed  again  by  none  ? 
Who  ?  why,  no  other  than  Wallenstein  ! 

FIRST   YAGER. 

In  my  life  it  ne'er  was  a  thought  of  mine 
Whether  we  suited  each  other  or  not, 
I  let  myself  go  with  the  rest  of  the  lot. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

I  quite  agree  in  the  sergeant's  opinion  — 
They'd  fain  have  an  end  of  our  camp  dominion, 
And  trample  the  soldier  down,  that  they 
May  govern  alone  in  their  own  good  way. 
'Tis  a  conspiration  —  a  plot,  I  say  ! 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

A  conspiration  —  God  help  the  day  ! 

Then  my  customers  won't  have  cash  to  pay. 

SERGEANT. 

Why,  faith,  we  shall  all  be  bankrupts  made ; 
The  captains  and  generals,  most  of  them,  paid 
The  costs  of  the  regiments  with  private  cash, 


414  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

And,  wishing,  'bove  all,  to  cut  a  dash, 
Went  a  little  beyond  their  means  —  but  thought, 
No  doubt,  that  they  thus  had  a  bargain  bought. 
Now  they'll  be  cheated,  sirs,  one  and  all, 
Should  our  chief,  our  head,  the  general  fall. 

SUTLEK  -  WOMAN. 

Oh,  heaven !  this  curse  I  never  can  brook ! 
Why,  half  of  the  army  stand  in  my  book. 
Two  hundred  dollars  I've  trusted  madly 
That  Count  Isolani  who  pays  so  badly. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Well,  comrades,  let's  fix  on  what's  to  be  done  — 
Of  the  ways  to  save  us,  I  see  but  one ; 
If  we  hold  together  we  need  not  fear ; 
So  let  us  stand  out  as  one  man  here  ; 
And  then  they  may  order  and  send  as  they  will, 
Fast  planted  we'll  stick  in  Bohemia  still. 
We'll  never  give  in  —  no,  nor  march  an  inch, 
We  stand  on  our  honour,  and  must  not  flinch. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

We're  not  to  be  driven  the  country  about, 
Let  'em  come  here,  and  they'll  find  it  out. 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

Good  sirs,  'twere  well  to  bethink  ye  still, 
That  such  is  the  emperor's  sovereign  will. 

TRUMPETER. 

Oh,  as  to  the  emperor,  we  needn't  be  nice. 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

Let  me  not  hear  you  say  so  twice. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  415 

TRUMPETEK. 

Why,  'tis  even  so  —  as  I  just  have  said. 

FIRST    YAGER. 

True,  man  —  I've  always  heard  'em  say, 
Tis  Friedland,  alone,  you've  here  to  obey. 

SERGEANT. 

By  our  bargain  with  him  it  should  be  so, 
Absolute  power  in  his,  you  must  know. 
We've  war,  or  peace,  but  as  he  may  please, 
Or  gold  or  goods  he  has  power  to  seize, 
And  hanging  or  pardon  his  will  decrees. 
Captains  and  colonels  he  makes  —  and  he, 
In  short,  by  the  imperial  seal  is  free, 
To  hold  all  the  marks  of  sovereignty. 

FIRST   ARQUEBUSIER. 

The  duke  is  high  and  of  mighty  will, 
But  yet  must  remain,  for  good  or  for  ill, 
Like  us  all,  but  the  emperor's  servant  stilL 

SERGEANT. 

Not  like  us  all  —  I  there  disagree  — 

Friedland  is  quite  independent  and  free, 

The  Bavarian  is  no  more  a  prince  than  he, 

For,  was  I  not  by  myself  to  see, 

When  on  duty  at  Brandeis,  how  the  emperor  said, 

He  wished  him  to  cover  his  princely  head  ? 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

That  was  because  of  the  Mecklenburg  land, 
Which  he  held  in  pawn  from  the  emperor's  hand. 


416  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

first  yager  {to  the  Sergeant). 

In  the  emperor's  presence,  man  !  say  you  so  ? 
That,  beyond  doubt,  was  a  wonderful  go  ! 

sergeant  (feels  in  his  pocket). 

If  you  question  my  word  in  what  I  have  told, 
I  can  give  you  something  to  grasp  and  hold. 

[Showing  a  coin. 
Whose  image  and  stamp  d'ye  here  behold  ? 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Oh  !  that  is  a  Wallenstein's,  sure ! 

SERGEANT  -  MAJOR. 

Well,  there,  you  have  it  —  what  doubt  can  rest, 

Is  he  not  prince,  just  as  good  as  the  best  ? 

Coins  he  not  money  like  Ferdinand  ? 

Hath  he  not  his  own  subjects  and  land  ? 

Is  he  not  called  your  highness,  I  pray  ? 

And  why  should  he  not  have  his  soldiers  in  pay  ? 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

That  no  one  has  ever  meant  to  gainsay ; 
But  we're  still  at  the  emperor's  beck  and  call, 
For  his  majesty  'tis  who  pays  us  all. 

TRUMPETER. 

In  your  teeth  I  deny  it  —  and  will  again  — 
His  majesty  'tis  who  pays  us  not, 
For  this  forty  weeks,  say,  what  have  we  got 
But  a  promise  to  pay,  believed  in  vain  ? 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

What  then  !  'tis  kept  in  safe  hands,  I  suppose. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  417 

FIKST   CUIRASSIEK. 

Peace,  good  sirs,  will  you  come  to  blows  ? 
Have  you  a  quarrel  and  squabble  to  know 
If  the  emperor  be  our  master  or  no  ? 
Tis  because  of  our  rank,  as  his  soldiers  brave, 
That  we  scorn  the  lot  of  the  herded  slave ; 
And  will  not  be  driven  from  place  to  place, 
As  priest  or  puppies  our  path  may  trace. 
And,  tell  me,  is't  not  the  sovereign's  gain, 
If  the  soldiers  their  dignity  will  maintain  ? 
Who  but  his  soldiers  give  him  the  state 
Of  a  mighty,  wide-ruling  potentate  ? 
Make  and  preserve  for  him,  far  and  near, 
The  voice  which  Christendom  quakes  to  hear  ? 
Well  enough  they  may  his  yoke-chain  bear, 
Who  feast  on  his  favours,  and  daily  share, 
In  golden  chambers,  his  sumptuous  fare. 
We  —  we  of  his  splendours  have  no  part, 
Naught  but  hard  wearying  toil  and  care, 
And  the  pride  that  lives  in  a  soldier's  heart. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

All  great  tyrants  and  kings  have  shown 
Their  wit,  as  I  take  it,  in  what  they've  done ; 
They've  trampled  all  others  with  stern  command, 
But  the  soldier  they've  led  with  a  gentle  hand. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

The  soldier  his  worth  must  understand 
Whoe'er  doesn't  nobly  drive  the  trade, 
'Twere  best  from  the  business  far  he'd  stayed. 
If  I  cheerily  set  my  life  on  a  throw, 
Something  still  better  than  life  I'll  know ; 
Or  I'll  stand  to  be  slain  for  the  paltry  pelf, 
As  the  Croat  still  does  —  and  scorn  myself 


4i 8  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

BOTH    YAGERS. 

Yes  —  honour  is  dearer  than  life  itself. 

FIRST    CUIRASSIER. 

The  sword  is  no  plough,  nor  delving  tool, 

He,  who  would  till  with  it,  is  but  a  fool. 

For  us,  neither  grass  nor  grain  doth  grow, 

Houseless  the  soldier  is  doomed  to  go, 

A  changeful  wanderer  over  the  earth, 

Ne'er  knowing  the  warmth  of  a  home-lit  hearth. 

The  city  glances  —  he  halts  —  not  there  — 

Nor  in  village  meadows,  so  green  and  fair ; 

The  vintage  and  harvest  wreath  are  twined, 

He  sees,  but  must  leave  them  far  behind. 

Then,  tell  me,  what  hath  the  soldier  left, 

If  he's  once  of  his  self-esteem  bereft  ? 

Something  he  must  have  his  own  to  call, 

Or  on  slaughter  and  burnings  at  once  he'll  fall. 

FIRST   ARQUEBUSIER. 

God  knows,  'tis  a  wretched  life  to  live ! 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Yet  one,  which  I,  for  no  other  would  give. 
Look  ye  —  far  round  in  the  world  I've  been, 
And  all  of  its  different  service  seen. 
The  Venetian  Kepublic  —  the  Kings  of  Spain 
And  Naples  I've  served,  and  served  in  vain. 
Fortune  still  frowned  —  and  merchant  and  knight, 
Craftsman  and  Jesuit,  have  met  my  sight ; 
Yet,  of  all  their  jackets,  not  one  have  I  known 
To  please  me  like  this  steel  coat  of  my  own. 

FIRST   ARQUEBUSIER. 

Well  —  that  now  is  what  I  can  scarcely  say. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  419 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

In  the  world,  a  man  who  would  make  his  way, 
Must  plague  and  bestir  himself  night  and  day. 
To  honour  and  place  if  he  choose  the  road, 
He  must  bend  his  back  to  the  golden  load. 
And  if  home  delights  should  his  fancy  please, 
With  children  and  grandchildren  round  his  knees, 
Let  him  follow  an  honest  trade  in  peace. 
I've  no  taste  for  this  kind  of  life  —  not  I ! 
Free  will  I  live,  and  as  freely  die. 
No  man's  spoiler  nor  heir  will  I  be  — 
But,  throned  on  my  nag,  I  will  smile  to  see 
The  coil  of  the  crowd  that  is  under  me. 

FIRST    YAGER. 

Bravo  !  —  that's  as  I've  always  done. 

FIRST   ARQUEBUSIER. 

In  truth,  sirs,  it  may  be  far  better  fun 

To  trample  thus  over  your  neighbour's  crown. 

FIRST    CUIRASSIER. 

Comrade,  the  times  are  bad  of  late  — 

The  sword  and  the  scales  live  separate. 

But  do  not  then  blame  that  I've  preferred, 

Of  the  two,  to  lean,  as  I  have,  to  the  sword. 

For  mercy  in  war  I  will  yield  to  none, 

Though  I  never  will  stoop  to  be  drummed  upon. 

FIRST    ARQUEBUSIER. 

Who  but  the  soldier  the  blame  should  bear 
That  the  labouring  poor  so  hardly  fare  ? 
The  war  with  its  plagues,  which  all  have  blasted, 
Now  sixteen  years  in  the  land  hath  lasted. 


420  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

FIKST   CUIRASSIEE. 

Why,  brother,  the  blessed  God  above 

Can't  have  from  us  all  an  equal  love. 

One  prays  for  the  sun,  at  which  t'other  will  fret ; 

One  is  for  dry  weather  —  t'other  for  wet. 

What  you,  now,  regard  as  with  misery  rife, 

Is  to  me  the  unclouded  sun  of  life. 

If  'tis  at  the  cost  of  the  burgher  and  boor, 

I  really  am  sorry  that  they  must  endure ; 

But  how  can  I  help  it  ?     Here,  you  must  know, 

Tis  just  like  a  cavalry  charge  'gainst  the  foe : 

The  steeds  loud  snorting,  and  on  they  go ! 

Whoever  may  lie  in  the  mid-career  — 

Be  it  my  brother  or  son  so  dear, 

Should  his  dying  groan  my  heart  divide,  • 

Yet  over  his  body  I  needs  must  ride, 

Nor  pitying  stop  to  drag  him  aside. 


FIRST   YAGER. 

True  —  who  ever  asks  how  another  may  bide  ? 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Thus,  my  lads,  'tis  my  counsel,  while 

On  the  soldier  Dame  Fortune  deigns  to  smile, 

That  we  with  both  hands  her  bounty  clasp, 

For  it  may  not  be  much  longer  left  to  our  grasp. 

Peace  will  be  coming  some  over-night, 

And  then  there's  an  end  of  our  martial  might. 

The  soldier  unhorsed,  and  fresh  mounted  the  boor, 

Ere  you  can  think  it  'twill  b3  as  before. 

As  yet  we're  together  firm  bound  in  the  land, 

The  hilt  is  yet  fast  in  the  soldier's  hand. 

But  let  'em  divide  us,  and  soon  we  shall  find 

Short  commons  is  all  that  remains  behind. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  421 

FIKST   YAGER. 

No,  no,  by  the  Lord !  that  won't  do  for  me. 
Come,  come,  lads,  let's  all  now,  as  one,  agree. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

Yes,  let  us  resolve  on  what  'tis  to  be. 

first  arquebusier  (to  the  Sutler-woman,  drawing  out 
his  leather  purse). 

Hostess,  tell  us  how  high  you've  scored. 

SUTLER  -  WOMAN. 

Oh,  'tis  unworthy  a  single  word.  [They  settle. 

TRUMPETER. 

You  do  well,  sirs,  to  take  a  further  walk, 
Your  company  only  disturbs  our  talk. 

[Exeunt  Arquebusiers. 

FIRST   CUIRASSIER. 

Plague  take  the  fellows  —  they're  brave,  I  know. 

FIRST   YAGER. 

They  haven't  a  soul  'bove  a  soapboiler's,  though. 

SECOND    YAGER. 

We're  now  alone,  so  teach  us  who  can 
How  best  we  may  meet  and  mar  their  plan. 

TRUMPETER. 

How  ?     Why,  let's  tell  them  we  will  not  go  ! 


422  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

FIRST    CUIRASSIER. 

Despising  all  discipline  !  no,  my  lads,  no, 
Kather  his  corps  let  each  of  us  seek, 
And  quietly  then  with  his  comrades  speak, 
That  every  soldier  may  clearly  know, 
It  were  not  for  his  good  so  far  to  go. 
For  my  Walloons  to  answer  I'm  free, 
Every  man  of  'em  thinks  and  acts  with  me. 

SERGEANT. 

The  Terzky  regiments,  both  horse  and  foot, 
Will  thus  resolve,  and  will  keep  them  to't. 

second  cuirassier  (joining  the  first). 
The  Walloons  and  the  Lombards  one  intent. 

first  yager. 
Freedom  is  Yagers'  own  element. 

SECOND   YAGER. 

Freedom  must  ever  with  might  entwine  — 
I  live  and  will  die  by  Wallenstein. 

FIRST   SHARPSHOOTER. 

The  Lorrainers  go  on  with  the  strongest  tide, 
Where  spirits  are  light  and  courage  tried. 

DRAGOON. 

An  Irishman  follows  his  fortune's  star. 

SECOND    SHARPSHOOTER. 

The  Tyrolese  for  their  sovereign  war. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  423 

FIKST    CUIRASSIEE. 

Then,  comrades,  let  each  of  our  corps  agree 
A  pro  memorid  to  sign  —  that  we, 
In  spite  of  all  force  or  fraud,  will  be 
To  the  fortunes  of  Friedland  firmly  bound, 
For  in  him  is  the  soldier's  father  found. 
This  we  will  humbly  present,  when  done, 
To  Piccolomini  —  I  mean  the  son  — 
Who  understands  these  kind  of  affairs, 
And  the  Friedlander's  highest  favour  shares ; 
Besides,  with  the  emperor's  self,  they  say 
He  holds  a  capital  card  to  play. 

SECOND   YAGER. 

Well,  then,  in  this,  let  us  all  agree, 
That  the  colonel  shall  our  spokesman  be ! 

ALL  (going). 
Good !  the  colonel  shall  our  spokesman  be. 

SERGEANT. 

Hold,  sirs  —  just  toss  off  a  glass  with  me 
To  the  health  of  Piccolomini. 

sutler  -  woman  (brings  a  flask). 

This  shall  not  go  to  the  list  of  scores, 
I  gladly  give  it  —  success  be  yours ! 

CUIRASSIER. 

The  soldier  shall  sway  ! 

BOTH    YAGERS. 

The  peasant  shall  pay  ! 


424  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

DRAGOON    and   SHARPSHOOTERS. 

The  army  shall  flourishing  stand  ! 

TRUMPETER  and  SERGEANT. 

And  the  Friedlander  keep  the  command ! 

second  cuirassier  (sings). 

Arouse  ye,  my  comrades,  to  horse  !  to  horse ! 

To  the  field  and  to  freedom  we  guide ! 
For  there  a  man  feels  the  pride  of  his  force 

And  there  is  the  heart  of  him  tried. 
No  help  to  him  there  by  another  is  shown, 
He  stands  for  himself  and  himself  alone. 

\Tlie  Soldiers  from  the  background  have  come  for- 
ward during  the  singing  of  this  verse  and 
form  the  chorus. 

Chorus. 

No  help  to  him  by  another  is  shown, 
He  stands  for  himself  and  himself  alone. 


DRAGOON. 

Now  freedom  hath  fled  from  the  world,  we  find 
But  lords  and  their  bondsmen  vile : 

And  nothing  holds  sways  in  the  breast  of  mankind 
Save  falsehood  and  cowardly  guile. 

Who  looks  in  death's  face  with  a  fearless  brow, 

The  soldier,  alone,  is  the  freeman  now. 

Chorus. 

Who  looks  in  death's  face  with  a  fearless  brow, 
The  soldier,  alone,  is  the  freeman  now. 


WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP  425 

FIRST    YAGER. 

With  the  troubles  of  life  he  ne'er  bothers  his  pate, 

And  feels  neither  fear  nor  sorrow ; 
But  boldly  rides  onward  to  meet  with  his  fate  — 

He  may  meet  it  to-day,  or  to-morrow ! 
And,  if  to-morrow  'twill  come,  then,  I  say, 
Drain  we  the  cup  of  life's  joy  to-day  ! 


Chorus. 

And,  if  to-morrow  'twill  come,  then,  I  say, 
Drain  we  the  cup  of  life's  joy  to-day ! 

[TJie  glasses  are  here  refilled,  and  all  drink. 


SERGEANT. 

'Tis  from  heaven  his  jovial  lot  has  birth ; 

Nor  needs  he  to  strive  or  toil. 
The  peasant  may  grope  in  the  bowels  of  earth, 

And  for  treasure  may  greedily  moil : 
He  digs  and  he  delves  through  life  for  the  pelf, 
And  digs  till  he  grubs  out  a  grave  for  himself. 


Chorus. 

He  digs  and  he  delves  through  life  for  the  pelf, 
And  digs  till  he  grubs  out  a  grave  for  himself. 


FIRST  YAGER. 

The  rider  and  lightning  steed  —  a  pair 
Of  terrible  guests,  I  ween  ! 

From  the  bridal-hall,  as  the  torches  glare, 
Unbidden  they  join  the  scene  ; 

Nor  gold,  nor  wooing,  his  passion  prove ; 

By  storm  he  carries  the  prize  of  love ! 


426  WALLENSTEIN'S    CAMP 

Chorus. 

Nor  gold,  nor  wooing,  his  passion  prove  ; 
By  storm  he  carries  the  prize  of  love ! 

SECOND     CUIRASSIER. 

Why  mourns  the  wench  with  so  sorrowful  face  ? 

Away,  girl,  the  soldier  must  go  ! 
No  spot  on  the  earth  is  his  resting-place ; 

And  your  true  love  he  never  can  know. 
Still  onward  driven  by  fate's  rude  wind, 
He  nowhere  may  leave  his  peace  behind. 

Chorus. 

Still  onward  driven  by  fate's  rude  wind, 
He  nowhere  may  leave  his  peace  behind. 

FIRST    YAGER. 

He  takes  the  two  next  to  him  by  the  hand  —  the  others 
do  the  same  —  and  form  a  large  semicircle. 

Then  rouse  ye,  my  comrades  —  to  horse  !  to  horse  1 

In  battle  the  breast  doth  swell ! 
Youth  boils  —  the  life-cup  foams  in  its  force  — 

Up  !  ere  time  can  dew  dispel ! 
And  deep  be  the  stake,  as  the  prize  is  high  — 
Who  life  would  win,  he  must  dare  to  die ! 

Chorus. 

And  deep  be  the  stake,  as  the  prize  is  high ! 
Who  life  would  win,  he  must  dare  to  die  ! 

[The  curtain  falls  before  the  chorus  has  finished. 


THE   END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AE^SSP* 


